


Best Laid Plans

by beforethecalm



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:36:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethecalm/pseuds/beforethecalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander decides to throw a dinner party in Cordelia's honor when she gets out of hospital following the rebar incident. As with all things on the Hellmouth, things go...awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge given here at my favourite Purple Haven by Luckylyn... 3 years ago. So, yes, three years later? And this fic has developed into a monster 69-page friggin' NOVEL that almost squeezed a sequel out of me. Until I resisted. And posted. And hoped, perhaps in vain, that it was decent, lol. *headdesk* Anyway, the challenge:
> 
> This fic would take place in Season three BTVS after Lover's Walk but although the rebar happened Cordelia never caught Xander and Willow together. Feeling guilty and conflicted about his attraction to Willow, Xander goes overboard when taking Cordy home from the hospital. He decides to throw a dinner party celebrating her recovery. So Buffy, Angel, Willow, Cordelia, and Xander have to spend the evening at an awkward dinner unaware until it's too late that they are all in danger.

The very last thing Cordelia remembered about that night was running down the stairs of that factory, hearing Oz give a short, sharp gasp and *bam*, down she went.

She only just registered when Xander had crept down next to her, had no idea where she was, only that her clothes were going to be 19 shades of uck and that there was a sharp pain in her side that was _so_ not going away.

What she didn't expect was to wake up in hospital almost a whole day and a half later, the light hurting her eyes. She squinted up at the ceiling, trying to block the damn thing out and wondering why she'd left it on in the first place when Xander's worried face came into view.

"Xander?" She whispered groggily.

The relief on his face was palpable, even through the fog. He breathed her name like he hadn't seen her in weeks, his gaze sweeping over her face, hand clenched tight around hers. "You're in the hospital," he murmured.

"What happened?" She asked, knowing for certain now that there was something wrong. You didn't just wake up in a hospital, your boyfriend hovering above you like you might die for nothing.

"Y-you don't remember?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Oz… We were coming to get you guys… He could smell you and then…" Nothing but that sharp pain in her side, the one that had dulled to an almost constant ache – like toothache, only worse.

"The stairs in Spike's factory, they weren't safe and you… You fell… You landed on a rebar."

Cordelia's eyes widened. A rebar? Realisation flooded back in and with it came a dull, painful throb at her side. She remembered oh-so-clearly now, could hear Oz gasp, Xander's cries as he'd worked his way down to where she lay. She could still see Willow's face, streaked with tears as they'd watched Xander try to help.

"I'm gonna be out of bikini's now forever," she murmured, noting the look on Xander's face with a stab of alarm, "Okay, what? Did someone die?"

Xander looked like he was gonna throw up. "You really don't remember."

She frowned. Hadn't they covered this? "Nothing from getting into that factory. Xander, what's going on? You're really freaking me out here."

"I—Nothing," he shook his head again, "I-I bought you flowers."

She glanced upwards, gazing at the flowers lined wall-to-wall in her hospital room. She got that it was etiquette or whatever to bring gifts to the sick – she'd learned that last year when Little Ms Likes to Slay had come down with the flu and nobody had thought to clue her in on the little loop– but this? Cordelia liked flowers, really she did, but could he not have spent that money on something else? Like… Like maybe a necklace or something? Flowers died. What was the point in a gift if they didn't last longer than five days at most?

"I-I just wanted to, y'know, show you… How much I—"

Cordelia glanced at him, her heart flipping in her chest. He'd broken off, palmed the back of his neck uncomfortably and was staring at his shoes. Had he been about to tell her he… loved her?

"Xander…"

She got that the near death experiences made you want to tell people stuff. Had she not herself been at the mercy of some red-neck idiot vampire and almost let it slip to Buffy that she… Well, loved him too?

Cordelia's breath caught. How? How was it possible when it had just started out as some stupid fling and now… Now…

Oh God. Did she love him too?

She thought back to last night, parts coming in hazy as she listened to the things around her – almost lucid, but not opening her eyes. Xander holding her hand, telling her how sorry he was and that she was okay, she was getting better. Whispering, that if she just got better he'd make it right.

That nurse with the painkillers – oh, those painkillers were definitely something she liked – telling her that her parents had called and they were… On some other continent, she couldn't remember which.

They'd sent flowers or something. And their love, of course, because they were such the doting parental unit. Her gaze immediately sought out the biggest bunch in the room and darkened for just a second. The flowers, themselves, were pretty much a surprise – usually her father would've sent a credit card and been done with it.

She was still thinking of something - _anything_ \- to say when the door opened and Cordelia glanced up, finding Giles smiling in her direction. "You're awake."

"I figured it was time I joined the land of the living again," she murmured, not pointing out the obvious 'duh' moment.

"Am I intruding?" He asked, shuffling a little further into the room.

"God no," she smiled, all too eager to have someone interrupt those particular thoughts, "Especially not if those are for me." She nodded towards the basket of fruit in Giles' hands, watching the corners of his mouth quirk upwards again. "Xander was just telling me how much he loves me," she told him, trying to diffuse the tension somewhat, "Like I didn't know."

Giles glanced at him, puzzled to find him looking rather ill at ease and busied himself setting the fruit basket beside her bed, "You have enough flowers to open your own florist," he observed.

"I think Xander took the whole 'say it with flowers' thing a little too literally," she said, trying to move herself up in the bed and make herself not look like a total wreck in front of her visitors. As she did so she yelped, the pain causing her face to blanch.

Giles cast a worried look at her, sitting down beside Xander in one of the hard, plastic hospital seats, "How do you feel?"

"Kind of like I got impaled on a rebar," she muttered, feeling particularly icksome, knowing that a few beads of sweat had suddenly developed on her forehead. _Jesus, that hurts…_ "But I'm getting better, I think."

"The doctor said you could go home in a few days," Xander confirmed.

"And your parents?" Giles pressed.

A black look passed across her face and, for just one moment, Cordelia wondered what it would be like for them to give a crap. "Still on their vacation. They send their love though… And those." She pointed to the largest bunch of flowers, the distaste on her face plain.

"Ah, I see…" Said Giles, feeling a flash of irritation. Cordelia could, at the best of times, test your last bloody nerve, but to leave your child in a hospital, alone… He shook his head, wondering if his lamentations of how he'd do things differently as a father would ever be proven more than that. "Do you need somewhere to stay once you get out of hospital?"

"I'm going home," she answered firmly, "I'll be fine."

"And I'll be there to look after you," Xander smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Or drive me crazy," Cordelia conceded, "Whichever comes first."

* * *

Driving her crazy was definitely the closer analogy of the two, Cordelia found, after spending three days with Xander non-stop. The doctors had sent her home after five days in the hospital, armed with enough painkillers to start her own drug-store and Xander, predictably, had taken up residence in one of the guest bedrooms.

The fact that he talked non-stop through the programs she wanted to watch didn't bother Cordelia. The fact that he still liked to watch dumbass cartoons was fine with her. What wasn't fine with her was that he insisted on doing every single little thing for her and she'd had enough pandering to last her a lifetime.

She snapped when he offered to help her to the bathroom for the 80th time that day. "Jesus, Xander, would you quit it? I didn't die, unless you haven't noticed, and I still have the use of my legs."

He looked as he always did when she snapped at him – a little forlorn and really kind of pathetic – but this time, Cordelia couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him. He was driving her insane.

"What's gotten into you?" She demanded, folding her arms across her chest and ignoring the pain slicing through her midsection. She was at her most formidable when she was like this and she wasn't about to forgo the posture for anybody, "Shouldn't the guilt trip have ended a couple of days ago?"

Something was different, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was like all the things they had maybe been about to say in the hospital were just hanging there between them and neither wanted to bring it out into the open.

It was also different there just being her and Xander. In the hospital there'd always been someone else there. Buffy, Giles, Willow – hell, even Angel had stopped by for a visit, though that had been kind of uncomfortable and really, _really_ weird. The only one missing, ironically, had been Oz but when Cordelia had asked about him, Willow had just looked down and mumbled something about the Dingoes playing a few gigs out of town.

"I-it's not a guilt trip, I was just…" Xander sighed, finding a spot on the polished hardwood floor of Cordelia's living room really interesting, "I-I planned something. For when you're better."

Her curiosity piqued, Cordelia stared at him, "It's not another bowling trip right? 'Cause I don't think my doctor'll like me doing anything that strenuous. And after the last one..."

"Not bowling," he shook his head, "I sort of organised something. With Angel and Buffy and—Sort of a 'Welcome Home, Get Well Cordy' thing."

"A party?" She grinned suddenly, her mood lightening despite Xander's complete oafishness. Maybe he did have some redeeming qualities after all.

"Well, kind of… A dinner party. At Angel's place."

"The mansion?" Cordelia's nose wrinkled. It was a little creepy on the outside, sure, but the right decorations and a few throws… It could be kind of fun. Maybe.

"I've been trying to keep it secret for days," Xander admitted, "Angel's cooking."

"Angel's cooking," she repeated, "Angel, the vampire who doesn't eat food is cooking?"

Xander looked back at that spot on the floor, "I wanted it to be a surprise, but I wanted you okay enough to be there and have fun, I mean…"

Feeling a rush of warmth towards him that wasn't uncommon these days, Cordelia smiled and leaned over to kiss him, "Sounds like fun…"

* * *

Fun, it turned out, was stretching it a little.

She'd turned up fashionably late in her Corvette, alone because Xander'd had to help Angel prepare or whatever, and had knocked on the heavy wooden doors.

Angel had answered after a way too lengthy pause, cloth over his shoulder and with a strained smile that had told Cordelia exactly how it was going to go tonight, despite hoping it would go well. And she was suddenly left wondering if there was some other etiquette she didn't know about that said she should have brought something.

Of the two couples who'd actually shown up tonight (Oz was still gigging with the Dingoes) she and Xander were clearly the happier of the two, strained glances and conversation all round.

Determined to try though she was – and still secretly kind of pleased at how sweet Xander had been organising this – Cordelia enforced a lot of the conversation herself, noting that Willow seemed edgy at the lack of Oz and Buffy edgy because of whatever demon was invading Sunnydale that week (or maybe Angel and the whole let's play martyr's and not be together stuff they were trying on for size).

Xander, his usual jittery self, was bouncing back and forth between the helplessness of his two best friends, leaving Cordelia to look around the mansion a little more, marvel at the old ass décor that seemed to just kind of _fit_ , and wind up talking to Angel in the kitchen once it seemed everyone had disappeared to other parts.

"So how come Buffy talked you into this?" She asked as she came up behind him, watching as he chopped something against an ancient chopping board and wondered at the fact that a vampire who didn't actually eat knew how to cook.

He glanced up at her, smiling tightly, and not for the first time Cordelia found herself wishing that people would lighten up. Was this not a party of sorts? And where was everybody, anyway?

"Talked me into it?"

"Please," Cordelia grinned, thankful that he'd taken her little opener into an actual conversation, "It's not like you'd have just let Xander organise all of this. I'm thinking that there's blackmail involved. Heavy blackmail."

He glanced up and out into the main area of the mansion, his gaze darkening slightly, but when Cordelia turned it was just Xander and Willow talking, coming back from wherever they'd been.

"Lack of smoochies?" She pressed, wishing she hadn't when the kicked puppy look passed across Angel's face. "Oh. Right. No smoochies since you went all evil. I remember."

Angel looked pained, "Me too."

The conversation threatened to stall then too and Cordelia, needing someone to talk to because nobody else was trying, used a different tack, "So how come you can cook? I mean it's not like you eat food, is it?"

"I don't eat," he shook his head, "Well, I can but it doesn't keep me alive."

"Right," she nodded, "That would be the Blood McShakes."

Angel laughed, surprising Cordelia greatly at the fact that he may have had a sense of humour without her ever noticing. "I read a lot," he told her, putting something that smelled way too appetising in his old-ass industrial stove, "I've never really had chance to cook for people before."

"So we're your lab rats?" She asked, feigning mild-outrage, "Need I remind you that I just got out of hospital?"

"No food poisoning," he smiled again, "Well, I hope not."

"Not exactly a dinner party kind of guy, huh?" Cordelia grinned, "I get that. My parents host one every so often but there's only so much ass-kissing-of-her-parents a girl can take. I tend to avoid them now."

And wasn't that the truth? The last time Cordelia had attended one was B.X (Before Xander) – God, had it been almost a year? – mostly because her parents had wanted her to bring a guest and Xander, even on his best 'Dressed By Buffy' day, wouldn't have lasted a minute with her father.

She drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter, waiting for Angel to pick up the threads of the conversation where she'd left them. He didn't. "Still not much of a talker, huh?"

Angel looked at her helplessly. Buffy, he knew how to handle. He could be alone with her and sit in perfect silence and it would be just that. Perfect. But Cordelia wanted to talk all the time and with talking came confessing and after what he'd witnessed tonight—

"If we had something in common, I'd know what to say," She continued, making him smile even when he didn't really feel like it, "But I don't think high fashion and new Prada shoes are the things to set your conversational loins on fire."

He laughed again, finding it coming much easier this time, and started preparing dessert, "Shoes aren't exactly my forte." He admitted.

"Allow me a duh," she grinned, noticing how meticulous he was with his cooking and wondering if he was like that with everything else in his un-life. "Besides, it's not like demon killing is really my idea of a good chat, either."

He smiled slightly, "I guess not."

"And yet this is probably the most normal conversation I've had tonight. How does that work?" She glanced over her shoulder to where Xander and Willow were now arguing and rolled her eyes.

"Xander's been on edge all week," she admitted, turning back, semi-surprised to find she was actually telling Angel. Maybe it was his whole ineptitude at continuing a conversation. She just... Felt obliged to continue it herself, that was all. Even if that did mean babbling. "I mean… I totally get that I've been much with the snippy on account of the whole sucking stomach wound… And he's been nothing but sweet but he's just…"

 _Really, really annoying, at times?_ She felt a pang of guilt at that and tried, unsuccessfully, to shake it off. "Don't get me wrong, it's kinda nice that he's all care-giving and stuff…" And a few times he'd been on the verge of telling her he loved her, she was certain and…

Okay, time to start acting a little grateful. "And this is great, isn't it? What he's doing, I mean…" She turned back to look at her boyfriend, to the heated conversation that had now sort of dulled and watched for a moment.

She realised Angel was saying something a second after he'd said it and she turned slightly, gasping as a stab of pain shot through her stomach, "Jesus," she hissed, feeling a little woozy and annoyed at the fact that she'd taken extra painkillers so that this didn't happen. It hadn't even taken the edge off.

"Are you alright?" Asked Angel, by her side so fast that Cordelia would have jumped, had it not been for his hand on her elbow.

"I'm fine," she ground out from between her teeth, clutching the counter to keep herself upright and shrugging Angel's hand away, "Just… Not that used to being Little Ms. Physically Impaired, I guess."

"What happened?" Xander's voice from the doorway annoyed her even more than the lack of working painkillers, his tone almost accusing.

What'd he think, Angel had bit her or something? "I moved a little too quickly," Cordelia frowned, "That's all. Would you stop panicking already?"

He wouldn't look at Angel. He took Cordelia's arm and led her away from the kitchen, asking if she needed anything.

Cordelia glared at him in answer and excused herself to the bathroom, gingerly lifting the black silk of the halter-top she'd chosen to wear tonight, wincing at the spots of blood darkening the white bandage beneath. She felt hot and sick, unable to splash a little water on her face because she'd totally ruin her make-up, and unable to take more painkillers because she'd took her quota for the night in one go, hoping this very thing didn't happen.

All in all, she felt pretty miserable. Her party 'guests' weren't even trying, the most normal conversation she'd had tonight was with a freakin' _vampire_ and she felt sick enough to throw up whatever wonderful concoction Angel was actually brewing in his kitchen.

She was beginning to wish she hadn't come, that she'd told Xander that she wasn't really feeling up to it and could he please make it another night… But he'd have fussed over her even more and at least this way she could prove that she was semi-okay.

Sighing, Cordelia steeled herself, glancing around Angel's bathroom for a non-existent mirror. _Figures,_ she thought with a small frown and a shake of her head, leaning against the wash basin.

When she went back out, Angel was busy at his big ass dinner table, putting dinner plates and things down. And Cordelia, surprised to admit that it looked kind of good, headed towards him instead of Xander who had sprung apart from Willow as if he'd been burned when she came out of the bathroom. "Y'know, if you didn't have that whole history with Buffy? I'd be kind of worried," she told him, leaning against a chair.

"Worried?" Angel repeated, glancing up.

"About you being gay," she grinned, "You cook, you dress kind of well for a guy who spends most of his life inside a creepy-ass mansion and you set a dinner table like the gay guy my parents hire for an extortionate amount of money. Is there something you're not telling me?"

She wasn't quite ready for the flash of anger that passed across Angel's face, was about to hold up her hands in apology (not that she apologised a lot but seeing how he was the only one talking kind of normally to her today, she'd do it just this once) until Angel spoke.

"Like I said, I read a lot," he smiled, looking uncomfortable.

For a moment – an incredibly icky and eww moment - Cordelia wondered if she'd hit a nerve, if maybe there was something in Angel's past that he wasn't quite telling them all but… Why would he? He had 200 plus years of doing things he regretted and, since Cordelia was no bigot, having sex with a guy probably ranked way below going evil and killing and torturing a few thousand people.

Confused and completely not understanding what everyone's deal was tonight, Cordelia sat down at one of the chairs, glancing up as Willow, Xander and Buffy edged their way into their own seats.

Angel poured them all drinks – water for Cordelia on account of the whole 'Mass Taking of Painkillers' thing – wine for the others since this was a dinner party and he was affording some creative licence.

Willow, Xander and Buffy sat chatting amongst themselves about nothing, really – the fact that Xander wasn't a great fan of wine, or Sunnydale's even hotter climate that week - Cordelia only joining in when she really felt like it and wondering if the painkillers had set her on edge or whether she was totally imagining the atmosphere.

Xander's arm was round her shoulders, his finger stroking slightly at the expanse of skin left uncovered by her shirt. Once or twice she'd catch Angel looking, glaring at Xander and then skulking away as he caught her looking back, until he was dishing dinner at the table and Cordelia could feel the tension from a mile off, so thick she could have cut it with a knife.

"How about a toast?" Xander offered, raising his glass and clearing his throat nervously, "To Cordelia… And a speedy recovery."

Even when she raised her glass, it seemed to Cordelia like her heart wasn't in it. She was all for the speedy recovery, really, but the nagging feeling that something was vastly wrong was getting worse.

Buffy mumbled something inaudible, smiled nervously at Cordelia and stood to help Angel dish the meal he'd prepared, knocking over her glass as she did so.

They both excused themselves, leaving Cordelia to wonder why it was Buffy couldn't clean up a smashed glass on her own and turning to Willow and Xander who completely would not look at each other. Which was about the time she realised she'd officially had enough.

"Okay, what's going on?" She demanded.

Xander almost leapt a foot in the air, removing his arm from around her shoulders, "What?"

"This is supposed to be a party," she pointed out, "My party. And so far, it's not so much party-like as it is wake-like. Every time I try to talk to you guys you find a way to edge out of the conversation. I'm having more fun talking to a dead guy who I have zero in common with and to be honest? This is really not fun for me."

At the start of the evening, she'd felt a little sorry for Willow. Alone at an intended coupl-y party (even when one of said couple's weren't exactly together), she'd even welcomed her into the conversation way more times than she really had to – and this was it. Her whole party. The entire guest list acting like the other shoe was waiting to drop or something.

The big ball of dread was growing in her stomach and Cordelia was 100% certain that it had nothing to do with the rebar, "There's something going on with you guys and I want to know what it is."

Buffy and Angel had exited the kitchen at that point, both frozen on the spot to the left of Cordelia. She frowned, watching them, and turned back to Willow and Xander, arching an eyebrow. "Well?"

She didn't get much farther, the light from the lamp went out and the room was plunged into darkness, the heavy drapes across from them shielding most of the moonlight from outside.

Even in the presence of a slayer, a vampire and a witch who could more than hold her own, Cordelia's stomach turned violently, "Xander?"

She heard a scuffle, a groan, and the sounds of Buffy trying to hit something that was about seventeen sizes too big for her to reach. She stood quickly, hearing her chair scrape against the floor and let out a scream as an altogether inhuman arm closed itself around her stomach.

She almost dropped to the floor there and then. Spikes in that very arm pressed against her wound and Cordelia's eyes crossed. She could barely see now, bright spots of light dancing in front of her eyes and the pain… Oh God, the pain.

She felt sure she was going to pass out. The smell alone from the demon was bad enough, all rotted flesh, burning the inside of her nose. The arm scraped against her and Cordelia didn't need light to see that the wound was open; bleeding into the white bandage she'd dressed herself with that morning.

She flung her head back, feeling the back of her skull connect with bone and the thing that had her in its grasp roared, dropping its arm. Using as much momentum as she could muster, Cordelia flung herself forward, stumbling in the process and landing on something soft.

"Oh God, Xander…" she whispered. The body beneath hers was soft, warm and not moving. Panic rose in her throat, along with a good chunk of bile and acid from her stomach because this could not happen, not like this. He couldn't be dead for crap's sake, not when—

She froze as the sounds of fighting behind her grew louder, Buffy's last cry colliding with what sounded like an almighty snap of bone. She hardly dared to breathe, heard Angel growl and Willow trying to yell something. She couldn't even run. It was too dark to see a way out, too dark to find something to help them – anything.

A hand closed around her mouth and Cordelia screamed into it, the sound muffled. She struggled, trying to bite down, and when the thing started dragging her backwards, Cordelia lashed out.

Behind her, there was shouting – instructions to each other, maybe, Cordelia wasn't sure. She lashed out again, connecting this time, and pushing herself forwards and away. For one moment, she thought she'd done it. Relief outweighed any terror, until pain came crashing back in and her wound, open and bleeding now, caused spots to dance in front of her eyes.

She stumbled again, her head spinning, and when Cordelia crashed this time it was head-first into the stone walls she'd been admiring earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

When she awoke it was to find Angel hovering over her, his gaze worried. She blinked a couple of times, getting used to the sudden light in the mansion again and sat up abruptly, causing her head to spin. "What happened?"

"They're gone," he murmured, his face a hell of a lot paler than usual.

"Gone?" What the hell did that mean? She looked over to where Xander should have been, relieved to see that he wasn't in fact dead on the floor, until that unpleasant feeling gripped her again. "Gone where? How long have I been out?"

"Twenty minutes," said Angel, "I had to redress your..." he gestured to her stomach, looking halfway embarrassed. "I-I didn't want to leave you. I called Giles, he's coming over here to look after you while I…"

"While you what?" She demanded, icily. The headache was leaving rapidly, replaced by a sense of anger that something was getting in the way of her and Xander again, "If this is Spike I'm gonna kick his ass," she told him, because it just seemed to her like maybe he or Buffy should have finished this off last time instead of letting the big, blonde idiot go back to his psycho-ex.

"I don't think this is Spike," he shook his head. He'd like nothing more than to not admit that, but this wasn't Spike's style. Smarts the younger, more irritating vampire lacked, yes, but not all out bravado. If he'd wanted him or Buffy as hostage, he'd have come himself.

"And you started being psychic when?"

"I know Spike, Cordelia," Angel frowned, "And this isn't—It's not how he'd do things."

Cordelia frowned, "Okay, fine. What's our plan?"

Angel's brow furrowed, "Cordelia, you're not coming with me. Giles is gonna come over and—"

"And what, baby-sit? Hello, I'm 18 years old, Angel. Officially an adult in some parts of the world and worried about Xander. If you think I'm sitting this one out…"

"You're hurt," he growled, gesturing down to where the blood had made her shirt stick to her stomach.

Cordelia made an eww face and rolled her eyes, "I'm fine, Angel."

"You're not—"

"Look, we can either argue about this or we can go save our respective others. Besides, I don't see that you have a lot of choice. If Giles ever gets here, his car's gonna be too overworked to actually get us anywhere and… Wait." Cordelia stopped mid-sentence, "You know where they are, right?"

Angel gazed at her a moment. "Why would I-?"

"Oz did," she protested, "He could smell her when she was afraid. Can't you, like, hone in or something?" She asked, making a gesture with her hands that only seemed to perplex Angel even further.

"I'm a vampire, Cordelia, not a sniffer dog."

Cordelia's mouth set in a grim line and Angel wondered how she managed to look annoyed, exasperated and worried all at the same time.

"So your plan was what? To go knocking on doors and asking if anyone had a great big slimy demon keeping three of our friends hostage?"

"Well, I hadn't—No," Angel frowned, "I was going to try Willy."

Cordelia made a face at that, "That slimy bar owner you guys always beat up when you're at a dead end with stuff?"

Angel nodded, "That's him."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Beating up said slimy bar owner was every bit as boring and uneventful as Cordelia thought it would be, bringing them no answers whatsoever and an even grumpier Angel.

Cordelia, ever the pragmatist, was using her worry for something else; thinking of places that those demons could have took them hostage. She'd called Giles on her cell before they'd left, telling him that she didn't actually get a good look at the demons but they smelled kind of like rotted flesh, if that were anything to go by.

He'd voiced unusual concern over her plans on going with Angel, but Cordelia had waved him off, telling him she'd hang up if he kept on with that thread and could he please get to the library and find out what the hell those demons were and where they were hiding? Like, now?

"Ow, ow, I don't know anything, I swear," said Willy, on the receiving end of yet another punch from Angel as Cordelia closed her cell phone on an equally exasperated Giles, "I'd tell you, man…"

Cordelia had to wonder if he was telling the truth. Personally speaking, though she could hold her own in a fight? If Angel was the one trying to pummel information out of her, she'd squeal like a baby. Well, after a fashion, anyway – she did have some dignity to maintain.

"You're telling me you've never seen these demons?" She asked him. Willy looked grateful for the reprieve. He let his gaze sweep over her, causing Angel to growl and shake him by the lapels of his icky shirt when his gaze lingered a little too long.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, "You'll have to ignore General Custer here," she motioned towards Angel who looked a little too into the whole Let's-Beat-Up-The-Bar-Owner-Until-We-Get-Somewhere schtick.

"You're not helping," he growled.

She shot him a look that said _'humour me'_ and sidled up to Willy, smiling as Angel relaxed his grip a little, "You'd notice the stench first. Rotten flesh. Well, if you could get past that guy over there."

The fork-tongued demon that'd been leering at Cordelia since she came in let out a hiss and turned to the three eyeballs dangling at the bottom of his glass. Cordelia made an 'eww' face. "C'mon, Willy, help a girl out. Does this look like the kind of place I want to be spending my time?"

Willy sighed, "They came in last night. Bunch of 'em looking for the Witch."

Angel's eyes blazed, "And you happened to mention where to find her?"

"Are you serious?" Willy squeaked, "Where d'you think I got this from?" He pointed to a bruise, darkening beneath his eye. A couple of days later and Angel might not have believed what he was saying, "I may lack smarts sometimes but I don't got a death wish and I ain't lookin' to get on the wrong side of the Slayer."

Reluctantly, Angel lowered him to the floor. "What are they?"

"Never seen 'em before," Willy shook his head, "But they're bad news, Angel. Real bad news."

Cordelia waited until they got outside before rounding on Angel, "Well, that was helpful."

She was right. Angel clenched his fists, trying to keep his frustration under control. The last time they'd spoke, he and Buffy had been arguing. About Spike, about what he'd said… About Cordelia. About Xander and Willow and the fact that they were cheating on their respective others.

Oz had left, gigging with the Dingoes Willow had said, but Angel thought different. Buffy had seemed to buy that story too, at first. Then she and Angel had walked in on Xander and Willow during what looked like a pretty intimate moment at the mansion and everything had come out in a tumbled rush.

Oz hadn't been gigging with the Dingoes. Oz had left the night of Cordelia's accident. He'd made it down the stairs right before Cordelia had fallen, found Xander and Willow just like they had. He'd stuck around to make sure Cordelia was alright but he hadn't even talked to Willow, wouldn't look at her.

After a moment of explanations, Angel made his excuses and left, returning to the kitchen where he was sure Cordelia's party would now be cancelled.

He was told otherwise by Buffy, asked to keep the peace and say nothing… He'd agreed, albeit reluctantly, not wanting to get in the middle of a fight between any of them – especially not Cordelia. He suspected she could do more with her tongue than he could with a sword and what could he do, honestly?

Interfering would cause even more problems – ones he wasn't willing to get in the middle of.

"So, what now?" She asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Angel sighed. He really, _really_ didn't know.

* * *

Across the other side of town in a dilapidated building, Buffy was just waking up. Her head was pounding, her arms bound tightly behind her back. She didn't need to look at her right one to know that it was broken.

She worked the rope at her wrists, wincing as her arm jarred with a burst of pain and when the door opened and one solitary demon appeared, Buffy frowned.

The thing was _huge_. "Uh, hi?" She tried, wondering if there was a way she could talk themselves out of this or at least buy some time so that she could get free. "I'm Buffy."

It looked at her blankly and Buffy winced as a wave of nausea passed over her. Concussion, eat your heart out.

"Me, Buffy," she jutted her chin down towards herself, wondering if it even understood the gesture, "You—"

The demon roared, its mouth opened to reveal teeth dripping spittle and the doors opened behind it to reveal a solitary line of vampires all filing in. Six of them in ceremonial robes.

Buffy grimaced. "Crap."

* * *

"It's a La-Whatta demon?" Cordelia repeated, her hand hovering over the mouthpiece of her cell as she tried to relay the information to Angel.

The guy looked pissed. Mostly because he could hear Giles in the background, correcting Cordelia's given label of the demon, and wanted to yank the phone out of her hand.

She held up a finger as if Angel himself had interrupted Giles' little rant and he listened again, watching her. This was quite possibly the worst idea he'd ever had, bringing Cordelia out on this—Well, not quite a hunt.

Buffy's trail had been growing cold the minute they'd stepped out of the mansion and now, in rain that was quite alien to the sunnier climes of Sunnydale, Angel was feeling more than a little washed out.

He watched the purse of her lips with new interest and when she sucked in a breath Angel stared at her. "What is it?" He asked, his voice far softer than he'd really intended it.

"Docks," said Cordelia softly, "Giles said these things like sea air." _And a certain amount of skank if they're in Sunnydale,_ she added silently, trying to quell the slight tremble of her hands as she flipped her tiny phone shut.

"Cordelia?"

"He said that they're, like, hench-people-demons... They work for the highest bidder or something. He's trying to find out who hired them."

"And?" Angel looked at her.

"Just drive, okay?" She frowned.

* * *

"They're chanting," said Xander, who'd rejoined the land of the living about ten minutes ago, once said freaky chanting had started.

Buffy nodded, trying to make out a word here and there – _something_. She was too far away, their voices not carrying well even in the run-down warehouse and her lip-reading left something to be desired too. "I think I can get my arm free," she mouthed at him.

It probably involved breaking another couple of bones but she was already on the wrong side of that argument. She squirmed, pulled at the chains and turned back the moment she heard the big roar-y demon move.

It had Xander by the hair, literally. Her best guy-friend dangled from one meaty fist, yelping his displeasure at being man-handled in such a fashion. Buffy winced. Her arm was killing her but that? That had to hurt too.

One of the vampires stepped forward with a knife and took Xander's hand.

Buffy cried out but it didn't stop him. He made a cut through Xander's palm and the demon moved him so that his blood dripped down onto a rough-drawn circle on the floor.

They began to chant again in the ass-old language that Buffy didn't even pretend to recognise and on the floor, the circle began to glow.

Two things happened. There was a noise like a popping sound and the floor began to open in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of deal because as fast as it was open it was closed again and the mystical runes etched into the surface were no longer glowing.

The head vampire – well, what she _figured_ to be the head vampire – looked sharply over at Xander and crossed the room in three short strides. He barked something to the demon who dropped him promptly, then? He roared.

He might not have been as impressive as the demon when he did it but he sure was pissed when he backhanded Xander clean across the warehouse.

Buffy winced as he collided with the wall, unconscious again, and the vampire turned on her.

* * *

A half hour later and Cordelia was wet, cold and so very not amused that the building Angel was looking at totally didn't have a door they could get through - one that wasn't, like, padlocked to death from the inside, at any rate.

Giles had been right about the dock thing. Just the slightest whiff of Buffy had Angel jumpier than a schizo and he'd headed towards the automatic shutter, all billowing coat and overhanging forehead.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Cordelia as she followed him, because for a place that looked pretty abandoned, they had no way of getting in. At all.

"There's gotta be a way in," Angel murmured.

 _There is no way,_ Cordelia thought ten minutes later as she shivered, wishing she'd had the sense to bring a bigger coat or something. Generally speaking, though, Sunnydale didn't call for that and boy did she know it now, her arms folded across her chest.

"Could this get any worse?" She muttered, then immediately wished she hadn't because duh.

Angel was coming back now, having wandered round the alleyway to get a better look at the place. "There's a door—"

She didn't let him finish, simply strode towards him, her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk. "Let's go. I know Buffy can hold her own in a fight but Xander's… Xander."

And with his track record with demons he was probably unconscious. _Hopefully_ unconscious and not getting his ribs torn out and used as toothpicks or worse.

She headed round the corner with Angel, almost running into the guy as he came to a complete standstill. "Jesus, what are you-"

"We go in through there," said Angel, pointing towards to a fire door a couple of storeys up that had been partially knocked through. From the set of Cordelia's jaw, he knew he wasn't going to be able to convince her to stay out of harm's way. He moved quietly, offering her a hand up to the fire exit and navigating their way up and through carefully.

He dropped to the floor silently in the warehouse, helping Cordelia through after him and placing a finger to his lips to keep her quiet, creeping forward through the shadows.

Cordelia's stomach tensed. This had been a great idea at the time, going to help Angel, save Xander in the process, but now—She gasped as something crawled across her foot, almost ready to scream and give the game away until Angel spun, clamping his hand over her mouth.

Even through his hand, he knew she was annoyed. Injecting enough venom into her eyebrows to show him that she could control her bodily urges, thank you very much, Cordelia tried to stamp on his foot, ready to kick seven shades of crap out of him for totally invading her personal bubble like that but Angel was moving again. Forward. Keeping his hand on Cordelia's wrist, and her heart leapt as she saw him.

Xander. And oh God, she so loved him. Like, _really_ loved him. He'd gone and grown on her, she realised with a slight huff of exasperated air.

It wasn't the nicest of places to come to that realisation. Standing in an uggy warehouse with a dead guy for company while you tried to rescue your honey just wasn't going to be the greatest place to realise that but she did.

She loved Xander Harris and boy was she ever in trouble?

She heard the yelling before she saw it. Angel had reached the balcony first and was peering over into the fray below.

Buffy, on her knees with her arms tied behind her back, being barked at by some dead guy in a crappy ceremonial robe.

"—he's supposed to be a vampire!"

"You want me to apologise because my friend isn't a vampire?"

That earned her a heavy-handed slap and even Cordelia winced. Buffy merely looked at him, licking the blood off her lips. "Sorry," she murmured, though it was clear she was anything but.

Vampire Leader Guy turned on the demon, "He's not Angel!"

He chose that moment to drop into the fight – perfect timing along with a well-aimed quip ("You called?") - and Cordelia watched as he vaulted easily over the balcony.

There was no way she was ever gonna get down there _that_ way, so she turned to find a staircase, arming herself with a metal pole and a piece of wood long enough to be useful as a stake just in case something tried to come after her.

She got down just as Angel had killed one of the two demons, was concentrating on the second as Buffy tried to work her arms free. Cordelia knew the basics of Slaying thanks to her stint as Slayerette after Buffy had disappeared for a while but she'd been out of her league then and she wasn't even half as impaired as she was now.

She advanced forward, however, plastering a look on her face that said she was old-hat at the slaying gig and vampires and demons should totally not mess with her.

It didn't work.

Three of the six vampires had thought better of this fight, seeing their hired muscle become Angel's plaything. They'd headed out via one of the doors Angel hadn't been able to open earlier, ceremonial robes billowing in the moonlight. The others, she guessed, were not so smart.

Leader guy was advancing on Buffy, another was heading towards Angel trying to get the drop on him and then there was hers. Vamp, that was, looking at her like she was his next meal ticket.

"I'd rethink that if I were you," she told him as he got a little closer. It didn't matter that she was scared; all that mattered was surviving which, as she'd learned months ago, was the first rule of slaying.

He flashed her a toothy grin, "Metal doesn't kill me, Princess."

"No, but this does," she held up her stake, taking some small pleasure from the look of surprise on his face, "What? You think I'd walk into a fight with a vampire armed with a metal pole? Duh. Here's how this is gonna work, Princess," she mocked, "You're gonna grow half a brain-cell and realize that this? Is a fight you're not gonna win. Then? You're gonna leave… Via my stake or that door, I don't really give a crap."

He thought about it for half a second, watched the perfect arch of Cordelia's eyebrow and decided that living to bite another day was definitely in his game plan.

Cordelia grinned as he ran past her – her short lived victory enough to make her drop the metal pole, and she turned back to go help when she realized that the fight was very much over, two demons and a pile of dust all that was left of their kidnappers.

Angel was helping Buffy up, Willow – who'd woken up too at some point during all of that -was kneeling beside Xander and they didn't notice the brunette, picking her way through the debris of the abandoned warehouse, careful not to slip.

She was halfway across the room when she froze.

It felt like everything around her had gone still as she watched them, Willow touching Xander's cheek where the blood had trickled down his face.

Suddenly, she knew why it seemed there was something going on, why it had seemed that way earlier. Willow leaned forward, making as if to kiss _her. boyfriend._ and Cordelia knew.

It wasn't relief making her do it. It wasn't this one time thing that she could maybe wave off, given the fact that they'd been taken hostage again. Xander was making to kiss someone else – someone who wasn't her and Cordelia's stomach knotted.

It hit her like a bolt out of the blue and suddenly, Cordelia knew why Xander had been so jumpy, why he'd felt so guilty these last few weeks. It was right there, in plain sight, in front of her and Cordelia had just… _You really don't remember?_ Xander's question at the hospital slammed right in her brain and Cordelia blinked.

She remembered Oz' stricken face now, the way he wouldn't look at Willow, not even when they were loading her into that ambulance and things had started going fuzzy.

Xander being all worried boyfriend and being with her 24/7, making sure she was okay…

Cordelia took half a step backwards and let out a cry as she almost stumbled.

Xander's gaze flew to hers just as she managed to right herself and if there was ever any doubt about what it was going on between them, it was erased immediately. "Cordy—"

Nobody else seemed surprised. She looked between them, Xander scrambling to his feet to get to her, Willow not daring to look up because she knew Cordelia could probably kill her with one punch… Angel and Buffy, standing there awkward but not shocked, watching her.

Cordelia did stumble as she turned this time, feeling as if the world were folding in around her as she got the hell out of that stupid warehouse, following the same path the vampires had took to get out of there.

She was half a block away, her tears intermingling with the rain when Xander grabbed her arm.

"Cordy, just let—"

"Let go of me, Xander," she yanked herself away from him, soaked to the bone and shivering, though she wasn't cold.

"It's not what it looked like," he tried desperately.

Cordelia's eyes flashed as she looked up, "It's not what it looked like?" She repeated, "What the hell do you take me for?" Because it was exactly what it looked like. It all made sense now, everything that had happened those last few days, Oz off gigging with the Dingoes…

Cordelia stared at Xander for a long moment, realizing that the pain had nothing to do with her stomach. It was her heart – her stupid, stupid heart that she'd given to Xander without even meaning to and he'd shattered it into a thousand pieces.

"That's what this all was," she croaked out, "Staying with me, your stupid dinner party… It was guilt, wasn't it?"

He swallowed and looked down and Cordelia knew without him ever having to open his mouth. "Stay the hell away from me, Xander," she whispered, turning to walk away.

* * *

It was Angel that came after her, Angel that convinced her to get in his car in the middle of the downpour after he'd called an ambulance to take Buffy and the others to hospital.

Cordelia had glared at him, wet and miserable as she'd walked towards home, and when he'd offered her a ride, her first words had been for him to go screw himself.

"You all knew, didn't you?" She whispered.

Angel looked at her, his face flooded with guilt, and pushed open the door to his GTX. "Get in…"

She had, reluctantly. She'd told him that if he was there for Xander, he could just go screw himself again. Right now. Because she didn't want to talk about the guy again ever, never mind talk about him with the undead portion of the group who looked uncomfortable stringing together just one sentence.

Her eyes, she noted in the side mirror were puffy and red. She'd cried her heart out as she'd walked because it wasn't like she had an elsewhere to be and she'd admit (to herself, at least) that if something had come up behind her, wanting a piece of the brunette – vamp, demon, whatever – it probably could have taken it, the state she was in.

Over Xander.

Common sense, she figured, should have kicked in an hour ago. Common sense, she figured, should have reminded her that hello, way out of Xander's league anyway… Just what was her problem?

 _You loved him,_ the irrational part of her brain fought back, and through the haze of seeing them almost-kiss, through the knowledge that her stupid heart had been broken by someone way beneath her league, Cordelia realized that everything hurt, ached even, and that was when Angel had pulled up.

He'd taken her back to his mansion and for a moment, Cordelia wondered if Xander was there, waiting, until she looked at Angel and he nodded towards the door. "I'd have taken you home but…"

"My stuff's here, right." She nodded, her voice sounding kind of dull. She pushed past Angel as he held the door open, still wet and miserable and wanting to sink into her bed and never wake up again until this was all over. She noticed the chairs upended on the floor, the remnants of her 'Welcome Home, Get Well Soon, Here's a Boatload of Guilt Over Kissing My Best Friend' party and she frowned. "Everything's ruined."

Angel blinked at her, worried, "I'll fix it all up, Cordy, don't… Don't worry about it."

"I'm not talking about your dishes, Angel…" It was harder to not cry in here. In here, she didn't have the rain beating down on her face and Angel – ever the comforter – could only look at her kind of horrified, like she was going to break like one of his stupid dinner plates.

"He cheated on me. Cheated, on *me*… And with Willow… I mean I knew he always had a thing for Buffy and there was that thing with Faith but… Willow?" It was like the ultimate betrayal. He hadn't the decency to cheat on her with someone who was remotely hot or even halfway worth her anger. He'd cheated on her with Willow.

"Am I the only one that didn't know?" She asked quietly, not glancing up to meet Angel's gaze. Her skin felt hot, her hands clammy. There was actual pain where her scar was and Cordelia wasn't so sure that standing up was the best idea ever right now.

"Cordelia, you wanna—" Angel gestured to the seat behind her but Cordelia didn't move.

She looked at his face, the clench of his jaw, and thought back to the angry looks he'd shot Xander during dinner, the little things that now seemed monumentous to her and—How stupid was she, really?

"You knew." She murmured as the slow burn of anger turned first to realization then embarrassment, "You _knew_ and you didn't tell me, you just let me sit there talking about him like he was the best boyfriend ever, like I had the best relationship in the world."

"It wasn't my place…" He started.

Cordelia stared at him, "Not your place?" Her voice went up a few octaves, "Not your _place_? Y'know, you try to pass for human 95% of the time, how about actually being one when it counts?" She ignored the way he bristled, the way his gaze dropped. She had enough misery for herself, she didn't need to cart his around with her too. They'd sat there and they'd talked. He'd actually laughed at her attempts at cracking the atmosphere before joining her at his stupid, too big dinner table. And who was he kidding, letting Xander host a stupid dinner party in his mansion? Did the place even have running water?

She sat down carefully on the seat behind her, refusing to believe that actual tears were making her vision blur. Actual tears. She realised then how he'd got under her skin, making her think she loved him like that—

 _You did_ , a small voice whispered, her eyes closing when that little voice realised something else. _Still do_. Because even though it hurt – really hurt, and she knew pain having recently been impaled on a rebar – she still did. Love him, that was, and Jesus, that just burned deep.

Cordelia felt sick. Everyone had known. Angel and Buffy. Xander and Willow, of course – they were the one locking lips, after all. Hell, even Oz had known because that was the reason he'd left. There was no gig with the Dingoes – nobody even knew where he was because the night she'd fallen on the rebar, Oz had seen them. Xander and Willow. Kissing.

Just like she'd almost seen them tonight, the guilty look on their faces enough to tell her that every inch of paranoia she'd felt that night not only had ground but was rooted right into the earth.

Xander and Willow. Her boyfriend and that fucking mousy-haired little—

"Cordelia?"

Angel's voice was soft and when she looked up, she found the one thing she hated more than anything else. Pity. "Don't look at me like that," she ground out, "This is all your fault, anyway."

Angel blinked, "All my—"

"You let him host my stupid party here. I mean, what was that? You don't get enough of a kick in the proverbial teeth seeing Buffy in a normal situation, you have to throw a Coupl-y Party just to make it hurt that little bit more?" Because, hey, maybe he liked the pain. She didn't – really didn't.

His jaw tensed and he stared at her for a moment. "I-I overheard Xander talking about it and I agreed to do it because…"

"Because what? You didn't have anything to feel guilty over, Angel, I know you find that hard to believe given the fact that you blame yourself over everything… But it wasn't like you pushed me on the rebar or anything..."

No, that was Spike. The same stupid-ass vampire who'd kidnapped them and pushed them into this situation anyway 'cause-That had to be it, right? It had to have been momentary insanity based on a life-or-death experience. Well, twice. But... That was logical, right? It made sense in the way that...really didn't. Because from where she stood, it hadn't been the first time - not by a long shot.

And oh, that hurt. Thinking about it like this hurt. Trying to find somebody to blame hurt. It wasn't like she could turn this around on herself. Was she not the hottest girl in her high school? Damn right she was, even on her worst day, which clearly this was.

Xander Goddamn Harris should have been thanking his lucky stars every single day since he'd got with her and instead… Instead, he'd been locking lips with Willow, who'd obviously pulled some pretty hefty magic to make him look in her direction 'cause Cordelia was WAY hotter and way more of the dating kind of material than she would ever be.

"Maybe it was a spell," she said, suddenly hopeful. "I mean, she's been dabbling a lot lately… And no way he'd have wanted her over me, right?" She looked at Angel, "Right?"

He didn't answer right away – what could he say to that, exactly? – and Cordelia's heart twisted. She didn't doubt for a second that she was hotter than Willow – she had eyes, she could see that. But Xander had wanted her – had kissed her when he was supposed to be with her… And nobody was denying any of it.

She didn't stop the tears from falling this time but still, in the midst of all the gut-wrenching pain, she managed to pull herself off the chair and begin hunting for her keys.

"Cordelia…" He began, his voice sounding awkward and heavy. "What… What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm going home," she murmured, trying to inject a note of steel in her voice and not sound utterly pathetic, "I need my keys in order to, y'know, drive there?"

Angel stared at her, honestly not sure whether the arm held carefully at her stomach was because of the rebar incident or whether she was just trying to hold herself together. "Cordelia?"

"What?" She snapped, turning to glare at him.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out, his voice soft.

Cordelia glanced down, suddenly woozy, probably would've dropped if Angel hadn't been right there to catch her. Damn vampire.

He lowered her back into her chair, his hand at her elbow. "I'll patch that up. You... You shouldn't be on your feet."

She looked up, "Yeah? That makes leaving kinda hard." She sniffed once, loudly, and held him in her gaze before he disappeared to get supplies. What the hell did he care, anyway? His relationship with Buffy was over, finished, very-much-not-a-couple-any-more... Which made his whole Florence Vampingale act kind of a moot point.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, when he came back with the big-ass first aid kit.

"Patching you up?"

"Helping me," she frowned, "Because if this is just to get in Buffy's good graces I really don't think she'll care."

"It's not," he told her gently, "And... I think you don't give her enough credit. She was really worried about you."

"Worried? Oh, I'm so sure. Tell me, Angel, did she know too? 'Cause if she was that worried, she might have warned me before the great sucking party of doom."

"Tonight," he murmured quietly, glancing up with a sigh, "We both found out tonight when we... They were..."

Cordelia blinked and sucked in a sharp breath, "Tonight? They were... Tonight?"

They'd been kissing tonight - that was what he was saying, wasn't it? She wasn't sure if she needed it clarified or not but she sure as hell didn't want it. That was maybe a little too much to take in.

"Look, maybe you should sleep?"

"'Cause that'd make me feel so much better?" Cordelia deadpanned, still holding her stomach. "In case you haven't noticed, you're kinda holding me hostage here, Broody. I can't look for my keys because the great sucking stomach wound might open again and, to be honest, you're being helpful in the way that isn't."

"I mean..." Angel's voice faltered, "You could stay here."

"Stay here," she repeated, "with you?"

"Not with me," he was quick to point out, as if the one thing on her mind right now was getting her claws into Buffy's cast offs. "I mean... You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"Chivalry's not dead," she muttered under her breath, "That's just the guy offering it."


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep didn't come easily for Cordelia. It wasn't the bed - she was surprised how soft it actually was. Angel had patched her up - chocful of awkwardness _that_ had been when she was awake - given her a towel to dry off so she didn't catch her death and one of his big-ass shirts to change into. When Cordelia had finally accepted her fate and lay down on his bed, he'd asked if she was okay. "Define okay," she told him, not breaking his gaze, "This should have happened last week."

"Last week?"

"Well, I could've spent the most painful part in a drug induced stupor... I'm thinking that would have been way more fun than this." She curled into his duvet, closing her eyes for a moment. Her breathing had started to even out a little and when Angel spoke again, Cordelia jumped.

"Did you love him?"

Cordelia winced, feeling a bolt of anguish pierce her haze. "You have no idea how much I want to say no to that."

"But you can't."

"Really can't," she sighed, remaining steadfast in her efforts to not look at Angel; she really couldn't stand the look of pity on his face right now. "And I think that's why it hurts so much, y'know? Of course, tomorrow, I'll be angry."

"Angry?"

"Isn't that one of the five stages?" She asked, trying levity on for size 'cause the great sucking hole of despair was threatening to drag her under, fast. "Grief, anger, causing the cheatee unimaginable pain, shopping and then...ice cream? I should be over this by Friday, I figure."

The corners of Angel's mouth lifted in a sad smile and he pulled the blankets up around her, wishing it were that simple. "Get some sleep, Cordelia."

She'd tried, of course. She'd watched him head out into the main area of the mansion, heard him start cleaning up even though he was totally trying to be quiet... And then she'd heard her cellphone. She'd closed her eyes at that one. Xander. Only about nine thousand times until the point where she'd been tempted to get up and stamp it into little pieces because it would not stop ringing. She figured later that she'd either she'd fallen asleep or Angel had done it for her - all Cordelia knew was that when she woke, his pillow was wet with tears and she was still curled in his duvet.

She didn't feel like getting up, never mind making small talk with Angel. She felt burnt out, hollow, like all the energy had been zapped out of her and all that was left was hurt.

She heard a noise at her side and turned to look, expecting to see hulking manpire with his hands in his pockets and a look of sheer _awkward_ on his face but all she found was coffee and a donut and a small sandwich.

Her stomach rolled and Cordelia turned away from it again, closing her eyes. At least if she were at home there'd be nobody pestering her to eat, to move to do-Well, something. Although she figured Angel's brand of pestering was better than most.

She got up, aware that she had no idea how terrible she looked and walked carefully out into the main area of the mansion, finding Angel sitting by the fire. "Hey," she said quietly.

Angel watched her for a moment, getting up to help her as she sat down. She was too tired to bat away his hands, settled instead for a glare which had less effect than it would have had earlier - say, yesterday. "I'm fine," she told him, which... He didn't look like he believed.

She gathered his shirt around her knees while he did the totally-Angel-thing of not looking and waited for him to speak.

"You look like hell," he told her and immediately grimaced, leaving her wondering when her inate ability to speak nothing but the truth had rubbed off on him. "Sorry. That wasn't very… I mean you look fine."

Cordelia scowled at his crappy attempt at a cover up and shook her head, "What time is it?"

"Eight-fifteen. You slept most of the day."

"I slept right through school?" Part of her was glad, actually. She didn't think she could face anybody - least of all Xander. Or Willow. "I guess everybody'll know by now, huh? I mean, when they've been telling people why I haven't shown up today..."

"I don't think they'll tell them this, Cordelia," Angel pointed out gently.

"What, that I'm currently hiding out in a vampire's mansion? Or that Willow Rosenberg is a mousy fucking boyfriend stealer? Or that Xander cheated on me?" Her voice caught on the last three words and she looked down, pained. _Cheated on her. Cheated!_ Not over the hurt enough to feel indignant or even angry, Cordelia glanced down at the hands that'd balled themselves into fists. She was hanging on by a thread, trying not to lose it again. After everything Angel had done for her - and she'd admit, it'd been a lot - he didn't need to see her fall apart too.

"All of the above," said Angel, watching her. A total opposite to the determined Cordelia of last night, this one looked deflated, almost. "I'm sorry."

And there again with the pity. Cordelia made a face at that. She could face most things dead on; had been doing it most of her life, was damn good at it, but this... "I keep going over it all in my head. Everything that's happened in the last few days, everything they've said. I keep... Dissecting it. And, y'know, it occurs to me that the only one not hiding anything - at least, before last night - was Buffy. And you."

That made him frown. They'd established last night that he didn't owe her anything but her barb about acting human 95% of the time had struck a chord somewhere, "Sorry."  
Cordelia sighed, trying to look like she cared about his self-flagellating as she pointed out the insanely obvious, "You didn't cheat on me."

"I didn't," Angel agreed, "but I knew about it. I just thought-"

"What I didn't know couldn't hurt me?" She ventured, thinking about that for a moment. "I wish I didn't." She honestly wished she could go back to last night and have this not be happening. To her stupid dinner party where, okay, it hadn't been great... But it had been better than this, hadn't it? Cordelia shook her head, officially tired of thinking about all of this. "Oz isn't gigging with the Dingoes, is he?" She asked after a moment.

Angel shook his head, "I don't think so. The night you fell…"

Cordelia arched an eyebrow. "The night I fell what?"

"Oz saw them."

She blinked, "He saw—Oh." He'd seen Xander and Willow, presumably. Locking lips. Or—God, she did not want to think of that or. "So he up and left?"

She wondered then if maybe she should do that; give in to the urge to pack a bag and get the hell out of Sunnydale. It'd worked for Oz, maybe it could work for her too – it wasn't like she couldn't get the money together or anything. "Maybe I'll do that," she said quietly.

Angel looked at her. "You can't run forever. Sooner or later you'd have to come back and deal with everything."

"I'll take later, thanks," she told him, thinking that she'd rather take never; never dealing with this worked for her. "I should go. My parents are probably wondering where I am…"

"Aren't they out of town?"

 _Damn_ , thought Cordelia, only now remembering that guys who didn't talk much tended to do a whole lot of listening.

"You probably shouldn't be alone right now."

Cordelia snorted, her pride a little stung at the implication, "Why? Because you think I'm gonna do something stupid? Hello, it's Xander and Willow I hate, not me." Her face twisted though because that thought really wasn't true. Willow, sure, and if Cordelia saw her again in the next ever she was liable to scratch her eyes out but… Xander?

She didn't hate Xander at all, the big dumb jerk. "Besides, don't you think you've done enough for me?" She asked, really not meaning that as snippy as it sounded.

She gestured over to his dinner table and the absolute fail that had been her Get Well Soon party.

She gestured down to her stomach where he'd sat and changed her dressing twice that she knew of and not a hint of fang in sight and now he was offering—Well, she didn't know what, exactly.

He thought about that for a moment. "I can't help you out?"

"You can," Cordelia cautioned, "I just don't know why you'd want to." And that, right there, was probably the saddest statement she'd ever uttered in her entire span of living.

Why would he want to help her? Turn back the clock to this time yesterday and she'd have been able to come up with a billion and one reasons – most of them amounting to the fact that she was hot and rich and—Okay, Angel had never noticed any of that.

Hell, last night and she thought that Angel had been doing this to try and get back in Buffy's good graces only that hadn't been it either.

"It's not like we're friends or anything. It's not like you owe me. And even you with your brood-tastic tendencies can't blame yourself for this one – it wasn't you who was kissing Willow." Though she sorta wished it had been. Hell, anyone but Xander would have done…

"Not everybody has to want something from you, Cordelia," he said uber-patiently, which was about the time that this all started to seem a little too surreal for her.

He'd agreed to a dinner party he was clearly uncomfortable hosting, he'd done the whole comforting thing – hell, now he was even offering her a place to stay until her parents got home and, if she wasn't reading too much into this?

A pretty large and dead shoulder to cry on.

She blinked, surprised to find tears blurring the edges of her vision as she wondered how in the name of hell she'd gotten so pathetic that the only person who wanted to spend time with her was a freakin' vampire.

"I _so_ do not get you," she murmured.

"Get me?"

"Yeah. Get you," Cordelia nodded, "No offence, Angel, but—It's not like you relish talking to people. I mean, you look pretty constipated during most of your basic conversations…" She trailed off, flushing slightly. "And now you want me to stay the night? Another night," she felt it only prudent to point out when a sudden thought occurred to her and Cordelia gasped. "Oh God, you're not evil, are you?"

Okay, he looked less than impressed with that question. "'Cause if you're just keeping me here 'cause I'm easy food or whatever—"

"I'm not evil," he said – and there was that constipated look again – "And, believe me, I'm not trying to eat you."

Cordelia glared at him, "Gee, make it sound like I'm some nummy-treat why don't you?"

"You're angry because I don't want to bite you?"

She thought about that for a moment and pasted a smile on her face. "I am really very much okay with you not wanting to bite me." Though the likelihood was that if he did, she'd probably be dead right now. Or a vampire which was ten thousand times worse.

"Thanks," she said, when she realised a couple of minutes had passed without her saying anything. Angel seemed perfectly content to sit in silence and though she did wonder why he wanted her there? It beat going home and feeling alone all by herself.

"For what?"

"Letting me stay?" She murmured, "The coffee… Everything?"

Angel smiled suddenly and Cordelia tried her hardest to stop thinking he looked kind of like a serial killer when he did that.

"Did you eat?" He asked.

She shook her head, feeling a little guilty as she thought back to the fact that both the coffee and the donut were the creations of the Espresso Pump, meaning that Angel had gone out of his way to get them for her. "Sorry. I still feel a little woozy," she admitted.

Angel gave her a worried glance, "Do you need to see a doctor?"

"A world of no," Cordelia shuddered, "but if you plan on keeping me hostage here, I'm gonna need my painkillers. Maybe some clothes." Because, not that she'd admit this to him at any point, as comfortable as his overshirt was? There was only so many knocks to her pride she could take.

"You want me to get you some things?"

He looked kind of bemused at that and she had a sudden impression of Angel-the-Bellhop which she really had to fight the snigger on. "I don't think you'd be comfortable rooting through my underwear, Angel," she told him. "Maybe you could just…drive me over there?"

At least if he were with her she'd be less inclined to listen to the thousand messages Xander had probably left on her answer machine. And less inclined to go find Willow and punch a hole through her face.

She thought about how satisfying that would be for just a moment and realised that Xander was probably camped outside her house right now, throwing stuff against her window or something equally as lame.

"On second thoughts, maybe just the painkillers," she murmured, not wanting to see him at all until she could safely look at him without bursting into tears. "Think you can do that?"

"You'll need to invite me in," he nodded.

"What, from here?" Cordelia glanced at him, "Will that even work?"

"I think so," Angel shrugged, "I guess we'll find out."

"Seems like a wasted journey if not."

"It won't take long."

Somewhat reluctantly, Cordelia let him go. She still couldn't believe she'd agreed to stay here with the guy, though the fact was that this was the last place Xander would think to look.

She had no family in Sunnydale, he'd probably just think she'd holed herself up in one of the many unused rooms in her house and decided not to open the door.

She picked up her phone after Angel had been gone a half hour and after only a moment's hesitation, switched it on.

There were 35 missed calls – each one of them from Xander – and a voicemail message from her parents in among the pleas from Xander for her just to talk to him, so that he could tell her how sorry he was.

She dialled her mother, her heart getting even heavier as she picked up on the first ring. Her Mom wasn't exactly the maternal type; doled out credit cards where most Mom's would've given out hugs (Joyce Summers, eat thy heart out) and yet she could still feel the startings of tears at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Hey, Mom," she murmured, her voice high and breathy. Her Mom filled her in on their Cruise-of-a-Lifetime – so spectacular, in fact, that she was utterly, utterly bored. It was almost an afterthought when she asked how Cordelia was doing and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.

Her mother had never liked Xander. Nor, in fact, did her father – Cordelia only stayed with him, at first, to piss them off and then…

By some small stroke of luck, her signal cut out and Cordelia was left listening to a dial-tone.

She closed her cellphone just as Angel skulked back into the mansion and Cordelia jumped almost three feet in the air. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She demanded, hand over her rapidly beating heart.

He was clutching a bag of hers, she noted, seeing the sharp outline of the box of painkillers and – God love Creature of the Night guy – clothes.

Her heartbeat began to return to a somewhat normal rate and she took the bag from him gratefully, rummaging quickly through and popping a painkiller dry as he sat opposite her on the hearth of his big-ass fireplace. "I'm guessing my invitation worked."

Angel nodded. The clothes he'd lifted had been from her bed – clothes she'd meant to put away that morning. There were sweats, a couple of vest shirts and buried underneath all of that? Underwear. Since Cordelia didn't feel like dwelling on the fact that he'd been handling her unmentionables, she shot him another grateful look.

"I got food too," he told her, "just in case you felt like eating."

"Y'know, you're actually pretty good at this for a guy who avoids people a whole lot and goes homicidal every once in a while," said Cordelia, completely without thinking.

"Uh, I mean that in a nice way," she was quick to add, though her mind boggled at the fact that his scowl didn't look as scowly this time and that maybe he'd taken that compliment for what it was.

"Did I say thank you?" Cordelia asked after a beat, her voice unusually quiet.

Angel smiled.

* * *

She'd spent the better part of three days slobbing it out at the Mansion. She'd switched off her cell after the last phone call from her parents, tried to forget all about the inevitable return to Sunnydale High where no doubt everyone would know what that loser Xander had done.

Not that it was her fault, of course, but sympathy in the halls of the school never had and never would stretch that far.

No, of course it wasn't her fault. But Cordelia, official Queen of the Scathing Put Down herself, could just imagine what people were saying.

People like Harmony, Aura… Saying things that she herself would have said had the roles been reversed somehow.

She sighed, shifted a little in Angel's chair, only just caught the look he shot her.

He'd been privy to a whole lot of emotions over the last three days – not least rage, sadness and her personal favourite? A crippling lack of self doubt in which she actually questioned her hotness, like Willow had anything on her.

"What?"

His eyebrows raised and he looked kinda deer-caught-in-headlights-ish, staring at her.

 _"What?_ " She repeated, blinking, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I—No reason…"

Cordelia huffed, "Whatever. I've been thinking."

His eyebrows remained in their elevated state. Usually, when Cordelia thought? It meant an insult aimed in his direction. Not that he minded, so much. She was actually pretty easy to be around if you side-stepped the barbs and the company was… Okay, nice maybe wasn't the right word. Welcome? New?

"I should probably go back to school," she said uncertainly, like she hadn't altogether thought it through but was saying it anyway. "I mean, as drab, dreary and depressing as it is here? I can get drab, dreary and depressing at school and still maintain my perfect 4.0-average…"

His lips quirked upwards in a semi-smile and he nodded, before going back to his book. "Okay."

"That's it?" She arched her own eyebrow, "Just 'okay'?"

His smile didn't wane, didn't falter. Angel just shrugged and turned a page, "You're not my hostage, Cordelia. And you have to face it sometime."

She blew out her next words on a sigh, "Yeah. Guess so."

She was dressed to kill.

She'd gone home for all of an hour to shower, change, and take some of her stuff back, dutifully avoiding checking the 84 messages blinking on the machine in her room. She hit 'delete', switched on her cell and sent a quick text to her parents to tell them she was fine (not that they cared) she loved them (and that was a bit shaky) and she'd see them in a week.

She went to school in the Corvette, dressed in kick-ass, dark-red leather that made her feel like she owned the place and walked down the corridor to homeroom; the first veritable test of her day.

Xander, Willow and Buffy were nowhere to be found and if she felt guilty about hoping they were dead, she really didn't let it show.

She was greeted by Harmony, gasping when she took in Cordelia's attire, and throwing her arms around a startled brunette.

Cordelia winced, her wound pulling, and Harmony stepped back, completely apologetic. "Oh! My _total_ bad! Where have you _been_?"

Cordelia blinked. Harmony hadn't been this friendly since the inevitable 'you're a Sheep!' conversation and, okay, with good right too. Ho's before Bro's and all that crap.

"Uh. At home?"

"Not even!" Harmony frowned and wagged a finger her way, "I called you like 75 times this weekend."

She waited for the insult, for the onslaught of 'I Told You So's' that would honestly be the kindest thing Harmony could give right now. Nothing came.

"Aura's dating an old guy."

Cordelia blinked. Harmony had looked fit to burst from the moment she'd laid eyes on her but for that? "I—What?"

"Like—An _old_ guy, Cordelia. He's 24. And studying to be a lawyer… Which, eww. Boring job alert!"

She tried to be interested, really she did, but in came the inept trio behind her and Cordelia sort of forgot to breathe.

"—he goes to UC Sunnydale. And he's totally hot but—"

She felt Xander shuffle up behind her, knew that right now? He was palming the back of his neck, gearing up to apologise and she felt her heart begin to splinter.

She spun on spike heels – no easy task, ask any girl – and levelled him with a gaze so cool, she wondered if hell had frozen over. "Loser corner is over there, Xander," she pointed snidely to where Willow and Buffy sat, having heard the entire exchange, "Run along."

He winced at her tone but didn't move and behind her, she knew that Harmony was staring at the exchange, mouth open. "Cordy—"

She squared up to her full height which was pretty impressive even without the spiked heels. "Get out of my face, Xander," she hissed, "I'm not interested."

She made it through first, second and third period without crying.

Lunch came, she rejoined her rightful place at the head of her former crew and all seemed well in the world until fifth.

Monday's saw Cordelia with a free fifth period and she was so caught up in going through the motions of her day that she found herself wandering down to the library without thinking.

She caught herself right before she pushed the door open, spun as if she'd been burned and walked smack bang into Giles who was standing behind her. "Geez! Lurk, much?"

He looked amused, perplexed, a whole host of other emotions but behind that? Shone sympathy that made Cordelia's stomach turn. Ugh. "Hey, Giles," she smiled easily, pulling her mask back in place.

The sympathy didn't leave. "I—Are you alright, Cordelia?" He began.

She held up a hand to cut him off, aware there was still, like, people in the halls and she did not want to talk about this. "I'm fine."

"Only Buffy said that—"

"Giles, I'm fine," she stressed, and lifted her arms up, ignoring the way it pulled at her stomach, "Do I look fine?"

He made a stammery, awkward noise in the back of his throat and Cordelia rolled her eyes, "I'll take that as a yes. I have to go."

"You weren't…" He gestured to the door behind her.

"A world of no. I just… Forgot where I was for a minute," she shook her head, about to sidestep him when Xander appeared too.

"Cordy?" He looked as surprised as Giles had and with good right. This was the last place any of them should expect to see her, she'd just… Forgot, that was all.

"What is this, asshole day?" she growled at him, made to push past him too when he grabbed her arm.

"We need to talk," he murmured, and just like that? Cordelia forgot again. She forgot where she was, forgot her relief this morning that nobody seemed to know what Xander and Willow had been doing and wrenched her arm out of his.

"Talk? Talk about what, Xander?" Her voice was low and pissed but not low enough to not be heard by people standing nearby. Cordelia didn't realise.

"I—I just wanted—I'm sorry…" He murmured, looking every bit as lame as she knew he was.

"Sorry?" Something hot and heavy burned at the back of her throat and she could feel tears pricking at her eyelids. She would not cry; not in public and sure as hell not over Xander. "You're _sorry_?"

Giles had stepped off to one side, trying to usher them into the library, students away from the blow-up he was sure to happen.

She didn't notice a thing.

"You cheat on me with fucking _Willow_ and all I get is a sorry?"

The collective mass of Sunnydale ground to a halt and there was Aura, right where she hadn't been before. Cordelia didn't notice. She was committing social suicide right in the midst of the domain she used to rule with an iron fist and Prada-clad feet—And she didn't notice because the pain in her stomach had moved right up to her heart.

"I just wanted to explain," he started again, putting his too big foot in his already too large mouth.

"Explain what?" She demanded, "What could you possibly explain that I can't already guess? Or was it not enough to have me walk in on you two… Wanna twist the knife a bit further and give me some details?"

His cheeks flushed and he looked down, his guilt written plain on his face. "I-I never wanted… Cordy, I couldn't tell you… Not when you were sick."

"I wasn't sick, Xander," she snapped, clutching her purse like armour, "I fell on a rebar, remember? Risking life and limb to look for you guys back when I gave a crap."

She hardened her heart and her voice, determined not to cry in front of the veritable loser-jackass-asshole that was her very-ex-boyfriend. "I'm gonna say this once and you're going to listen to me. I want you to leave me alone. Stop calling. Stop texting. And stop trying to fucking apologize, I'm not interested."

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—and closed it again at the look on her face. He nodded, and Cordelia pushed past him, stopping dead in front of Aura and the smug look on her face.

_Shit._

Suddenly? Aura had an out on the whole dating-an-old-guy thing 'cause Cordelia being cheated on by that loser, Xander Harris? Was so much more Harmony's thing…

* * *

She came in from school painfully aware that there was nothing in Angel's mansion that she could pick up and throw.

He was skulking in the corner away from the sunshine and Cordelia barely had time to think about the fact that she'd pointed the Corvette in this direction instead of home.

"How was your day?" He asked as she placed herself carefully down onto his couch.

"Shitty," she answered, her voice thick, "Everybody knows."

He made a sympathetic face which still smarted, though she didn't want to kick his as much as she'd wanted to kick Giles'… "It's all my fault."

"Cordelia, it's not—"

"Not Xander," she huffed, wondering if he knew, like, anything. "Of course that's not my fault. I'm talking about today. I opened my big mouth and—Now it's all over school and—I'm not going back there. Ever."

"Ever?"

"Ever," she nodded, reaching up to remove her earrings and toss them on his coffee table which was about the time she noticed the TV. Cordelia blinked, "What's that?"

Angel's look of surprise faded into a tiny smile, "A television."

"Duh," she rolled her eyes, "I get that. But what's it doing here?"

His smile faltered a little, "You—You kept telling me I needed to get one. Because you were bored. So I thought…"

Cordelia blinked. It hadn't been there that morning, which meant… "You went out to get me this?"

"Well," he gave a careful shrug, "It was no big deal."

Her eyes misted suddenly and Cordelia had no choice but to blame the suck-fest that been her day. "You risk a melba-toast experience to go out and buy me a TV and it's no big deal?"

"I just thought… I thought…" Angel paused, frowned. He didn't know about the melba-toast experience but the sales guy at the store had been pretty scary. Demonic, he was sure, showing Angel this TV and that, telling him how the one that was ten times the price of the one he'd bought would revolutionise his home. "I don't know what I thought. I just wanted to do something for you. I can take it back…"

A slow smile spread across her face. "Don't you dare."

"It's, uh, it's not the only thing I did…"

Cordelia looked at him, no longer suspicious just… Mildly surprised. "What do you mean?" She asked, carefully.

He placed his book by the fireplace and edging around the drapes he left open most days when she was there, led her to one of the other rooms in the mansion.

He did the Awkward-Dead-Guy-Shuffle which, shocker here; he was really good at and gestured for her to go forward first. Whatever she was expecting? It wasn't a bed, fully made up. And it wasn't a small dressing table with a mirror placed right on top, her clothes by its side on the chair.

Cordelia looked up at him, tried to swallow past the lump caught in her throat. "You did this for me too?" She asked, once she'd found her voice again.

Angel nodded, still perfecting his shuffle. "There was some stuff down in the basement… I just moved it upstairs, was all."

Cordelia thought it was maybe the nicest thing anybody had ever done for her which took her on a whole trip to Weirdsville that she didn't even want to think about right now. "So…. What, you want me to move in with you?"

His gaze shot up – that hadn't been his intention at all and now… "No, I just—I thought that while you were here—You kept saying there was no mirrors either."

She shook her head, looking back into the room. It was still the nicest thing anyone'd ever done for her but the conversation was nine seconds away from descending into awkward so she smiled at him, "Admit it, you just don't want to sleep on the sofa any more."

He grinned suddenly – and that? Was a world of not scary. It looked… Natural, kinda. Not constipated, not forced… And whoo-boy, if he walked around doing that? He'd be beating off girls with a stick. Not her, of course – Broken Heart and all – but—Seriously.

"Guilty," he nodded, having stopped shuffling too. "I—Uh, I'll get back to my reading."

He made it all the way to the top of the stairs before Cordelia realized that she hadn't thought about school once since she'd come home and spoke again. "Broody?"

He turned, the corners of his mouth lifting at the nickname. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," she told him, her voice soft.

"You're welcome."

* * *

On the 6th day she'd stayed with Angel, Cordelia came home to find him bruised, bloody and so very not the picture of manpire nonchalance she'd grown used to this past week.

He was even sitting on the couch which, okay, she guessed it was his and all but would it've killed the guy to put down a throw since he was bleeding all over the thing?

"What happened?" She asked, moving to sit beside him, avoiding the blood.

"Nestor demon," he told her, wincing as he moved, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, 'cause you look it," she rolled her eyes, "Do you need a hospital?"

He shook his head, which was about the time she noticed the bandages at his feet. She very much resisted the 'eww' face and glanced back up at him again, "Actually, you look like crap."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, "Thanks."

"No, really."

That grew into a full on smile, albeit a painful one, "I'll live."

Cordelia wasn't so sure – it was the first time she'd seen him looking all beat up and stuff – wasn't one of the perks of being a vampire fast healing or whatever? "Want me to get you anything?"

Angel shook his head, "No. Thanks."

She patted his arm gently, since it looked like the only place on his body that wasn't hurting right now, and settled back beside him. "TV?"

He smiled again, "I'd like that."

His stomach had growled twice in the three hours they sat there.

The first time he ignored it, since Cordelia had missed it too, and tried to judge how painful it was going to be getting off the couch to go to his refrigerator for blood.

He tried twisting and the answer was very painful, so he sat back, resting his arm against the back of the couch.

Nestor demons were nasty, lived in sewers and only came out of hibernation once every three month to feed and feed a lot. He wasn't sure when this particular Nestor had moved in but it looked like a first for Sunnydale and it was big.

He'd caught wind of it from Willy a couple of nights ago when he'd visiting the slimy bar owner, trying to shake some information out of him on a prophecy Giles had called him on.

He'd hit the sewers after Cordelia had left for school that morning and had almost had to be scraped off the floor with a spatula. Nestor demons were quick, went for the throat of anything that attempted to get between it and its prey, which today? Had been Angel, only it hadn't just gone for the throat.

His stomach rumbled a second time which he knew Cordelia heard because she sort of stiffened on the couch beside him. "Was that you?" She asked.

He shook his head, feigning innocence. He tried not to eat when she was here because for all Cordelia knew and seemed to accept what he was? Eating in front of her was sort of—Not intimate, perhaps, but… Definitely not something she'd want to see.

She got up and Angel was torn between going after her, maybe apologizing, when she exited his kitchen with two cups.

He smelled the blood before he saw it and his stomach growled again, making him squirm even as she held out the cup. "Cordelia—"

"What?" She took a drink of her own beverage of choice which was not blood and pushed the cup in his direction again. "Take it."

Angel blinked, "You don't—I mean, I shouldn't…"

"Shouldn't what, eat?" She arched an eyebrow, "Why not? It's not like I don't know what you live on."

He frowned, "I know that, Cordelia, but—"

"Angel, would you take the cup?" She sounded exasperated, so he did as he was told. "Besides, if you're drinking that? It means you're not trying to drink me," she told him, "Which I am very much on board with."

She curled her legs beneath her on the couch, blood forgotten about, and turned back to the TV, ignoring the fact that Angel was sat beside her open-mouthed. She didn't even blink when he raised the cup to his lips, just gave off this tiny little smirk that said _See? That wasn't so bad…_ and kept watching TV.

* * *

By the 7th day, Angel was completely healed and the television he'd thought was going to be a total conversation killer led them to a variety of discussions.

They talked about her aspirations as an actress, led by some of the movies he was surprised to find she liked – Casablanca, Gone With the Wind.

They talked about her parents who were absent at best then, to Angel's dismay, his own parents and the past that he'd just as soon forget about but never could.

It was never going to be a conversation he liked having and he tried to ignore the fact that he was talking to Cordelia about this but when something on the TV piqued her curiosity and she turned to him, asking him if he remembered all the people he'd killed? He shook his head, slowly. "Not really," he admitted quietly. "There was a lot."

She didn't answer that for a moment. She turned back to the TV and Angel thought that maybe she hadn't heard him when she piped up with, "I guess a couple of hundred years of being evil there would be."

"Yeah," Angel nodded, thinking the conversation was over.

"Is that why you help?"

He turned his attention – which had been flaky at best – from the TV to her again. "Help?"

"Yeah, help. Y'know, people? Me?" Her head tilted as she studied him, "At first I thought it was to impress Little Ms. Likes to Fight but then… I don't see her around here so much any more." Actually, she hadn't seen her around here at all since her Dinner Party of Death but she wasn't going to draw attention to that. "So I figure you're trying to impress someone."

He semi-frowned at that. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."

Cordelia shook her head, "Okay, maybe not impress someone… Make up for it, maybe?"

Angel sighed, "That's a whole lot of things to make up for, Cordelia."

She scoffed, "And what, time's an issue for you? Hello, you're immortal, remember? As in going to live forever?"

He thought about that for a while, didn't speak. Cordelia turned back to the TV with a roll of her eyes, pegging Angel's silence for Brood-Greatly-Mode where he beat himself up with all the things he'd done, as if he hadn't saved a few hundred people since then.

"You think I can make up for it?" He asked, almost a full half hour later, wondering why it mattered.

Cordelia shrugged, "I have no idea, it's not like I'm on a direct line with those on high or whatever, but… I think maybe it means something that you try."

Angel nodded.

* * *

She'd been there a week and a half and the weird thing about their pseudo-friendship? Was that it wasn't that weird at all. She'd told him on the night of her Get Well Soon Party of Fail that they didn't really have much in common but that hadn't stopped them talking.

And talking.

And talking a bit more than that, too.

She'd told him all about her weird dream where she'd wished Buffy had never come to Sunnydale, he'd somehow disappeared too and she'd been killed by Willow and Xander who, as if life weren't weird enough in that dream? Were skanky-ho-vampires and totally in a relationship and having sex or something.

He'd arched an eyebrow at that and Cordelia had rolled her eyes, telling him that if he was going to start in her subconscious mind or whatever, he'd be wearing the blood he was currently drinking.

"I mean, I make this wish and then don't even include a clause that says that I won't die or whatever? Who does that?" Because she was her father's daughter, after all. Common sense told you that you checked the small print on e-v-e-r-y-thing.

She was honestly trying to puzzle it out. It wasn't the first time she'd thought that Buffy was the total root of all her problems but wishing she'd never come to Sunnydale was a bit harsh. After all, that would mean Angel never would have either… And she was thinking about that why?

"It was probably just a dream, Cordelia," said Angel, smiling uber-patiently (which seemed to be his thing with her).

"Well it sure felt real," she murmured, shaking her head. "And did I mention the part that the girl I made the wish with is now an exceptionally pissed off student at my school?"

That got his attention quick. "She's a student?"

"Ha!" She grinned, "Not too quick to call it a dream now, are ya?"

Angel frowned, "Have you talked to Giles about this?"

Her sudden smile faded, "Oh, sure. 'Cause I make it my life's mission to run to Bookish, British and Boring every time I have a weird dream."

"I'm serious, Cordelia," said Angel, "She could be anything, some sort of demon…"

"And she could also be a normal teenager with raging hormones who hates Sunnydale as much as the next sane person," Cordelia rolled her eyes, "Geez. Overreact, much?"

Angel frowned again but said nothing else, wondering if he was overreacting or whether there was something in it. He made a mental note to speak to Giles, nonetheless, and took another sip of blood as Cordelia switched on the TV and propped her feet on his lap.

They watched uninterrupted for half an hour, Cordelia's laughter ringing out every so often at something Chandler said on a rerun of _Friends_.

He didn't hear the door, didn't even hear her heartbeat which was strange when he considered how attuned he was to Buffy's movements when they'd been together.

He heard her voice first, heard how pissed she was and knew that the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

"This looks cozy," said her voice from the door and as Cordelia turned, she could actually swear that Buffy was about to, like, breathe fire or something.

She pulled her feet from Angel's lap and stood – not, of course, as quickly as Angel did (hello, super-Vampire-speed) and opened her mouth to speak.

Angel, again, got there first. "Buffy… What are you doing here?"

Her gaze narrowed as she moved further into the room, "I came to see how you were doing. I've mis—You, uh, haven't been on patrol lately and I just thought…" Her voice trailed off as she looked from Angel, to Cordelia, then back again, expecting an explanation.

"It's not what it looks like," Angel started, stepping to one side and putting himself squarely between Cordelia and Buffy.

Cordelia frowned at the words, noted Buffy's scornful look and stepped out from behind Awkward Dead Guy in turn. "Uh, hello? It's _exactly_ what it looks like," she pointed out huffily, "We're watching TV."

"Cordelia—" Angel's voice was low, harsh, and that stung more than his earlier words, "I'll handle this."

"Handle what?" She demanded, "There's nothing to handle. We were watching TV, end of."

Buffy watched the exchange silently, hands clenched into fists by her side. "We need to talk," she said to Angel, and spun on her heel to walk outside.

Cordelia looked at him, about to tell him that he did not need to follow her and defend himself because there was nothing to defend, when she caught the look.

"Stay here."

* * *

He came back in to find Cordelia on the couch, staring at the screen. He sat beside her but she made no move to put her feet in his lap as she might have done earlier, didn't even blink.

"Cordelia…"

"Did you explain?" Her voice was cold but she didn't take her eyes off the TV.

"I—I told her that we were…" Angel sighed. He hadn't told her much, actually. Cordelia had been right, there was nothing going on and yet the way it looked…

"You told her that we were what?" She turned to look at him now and there was no mistaking the hurt in her eyes.

"I told her you needed a place to stay," said Angel. Even to his own ears the explanation had sounded lame. It sounded even worse saying it to Cordelia.

"What, because I don't have a place of my own? You didn't have to explain, Angel," she frowned.

"I did," said Angel. "The way it looked…"

"The way what looked?" She glared at him, "Me and you, sitting together watching TV? Like we can't be…" Her voice trailed off.

"Can't be what?"

"I guess I just thought…" Her words stuck in her throat and Cordelia's gaze dropped. Was it such a stretch to believe that she could find something in common with Angel? Or that he could, _God_ , be her friend?

It was his fault! Offering her a place to stay, buying a TV, talking with her…

If he hadn't done all that then maybe she wouldn't be thinking this. Maybe she'd just be at home where she belonged, cutting the Xander-heads off all her photos.

The heartache that she'd managed to stave off for most of the week suddenly seemed very there and very real and Cordelia was suddenly left contemplating the fact that maybe she hated Angel a little too because this was his fault.

"I thought we were friends," she admitted with a tiny little laugh that should have sounded funny, not high and painful and breathy. God, she was an idiot. "I mean, you and me? Having something in common? Please."

He looked wounded at that but Cordelia honestly couldn't bring herself to care; it was nowhere near the barb she could've delivered but then, lately, none of them were. She shook her head, standing. "I think it's time I left."

"Cordelia—You don't have to do that… Buffy understands…" He tried.

Mostly, it was futile. Cordelia had pretty much made up her mind the minute Angel had went to fall all over Little Ms. Likes to Slay and this so was not a jealousy thing. "She understands what?" She frowned, "That we watch TV together? That we talk? She made whatever *this* is look totally sinister and up until you opened your big, stupid mouth? There was nothing sinister in it!"

Angel looked puzzled, "When I—What did I say?"

He was completely and utterly clueless. "It's not what it looks like," she mimicked, glaring at him. "No wonder she thought something was going on… That's exactly what Xander said to me outside that stupid warehouse."

"Oh." And suddenly Angel understood.

Cordelia sighed. All he'd had to say was that they were friends. Okay, maybe it did look a little weird to Buffy but… That weird? Really?

"I'm gonna get my stuff," she said with about as much enthusiasm as she could muster which, right now? Was very little.

"Cordelia, really…"

"Angel, it's fine. I had to go home sometime anyway," said Cordelia, tossing him the remote and shrugging like she didn't have a care in the world.

It took less than three minutes to collect her stuff and the goodbye? Was awkward personified but finally she was out of there and driving back to her own life, back to reality after a week and a half of… She didn't even know what with Angel.

She didn't feel the prick of tears until she turned the corner to her very big, very empty house and pounded her fist on the wheel. "Suck it up, Cordelia," she snapped at her reflection in the mirror, grabbing her bag to go into the house.

What, exactly, had she expected?


	4. Chapter 4

A week had passed since she'd left Angel's. A week in which she'd had to endure glares from Buffy until finally she'd snapped and told her in no uncertain terms that, even though it was none of her business, there was nothing going on with her and Angel.

There wasn't. She'd thrown herself into school and her schoolwork, avoiding Harmony and her little group of sheep about as much as she was avoiding Xander which, difficult, considering they had most of the same classes together.

Her parents returned from their cruise with the usual nonchalance they afforded her which meant they bestowed her with gifts, asked how she'd been since her stint in the hospital – where, by the way, she totally could have _died_ – and went back about their business ignoring her. Her mother didn't even bat an eyelid when she mentioned the fact that she and Xander weren't a thing any more, just nodded with what looked like it could've been sympathy and resumed looking for her next lot of pills.

It wasn't like she wasn't used to it or anything but it stung when she realised that she'd talked more to Angel about her problems than she ever had her parents and wasn't that weird?

She didn't see him again until weeks after she'd left his mansion and Buffy had stopped glaring at her on a daily basis, walking into him outside the Espresso Pump two days after her father went and lost them everything.

She was wearing one of the few outfits she still owned, a perma-frown on account of the whole losing-everything schtick and was very much not prepared to run into the one person who she thought might actually give a crap.

His smile was soft, tentative. His eyes actually seemed to light up when he saw her and Cordelia's own misted in response, a fact she tried to cover by faking a cough and looking away.

"Hey, Angel."

"Cordelia…"

If she thought their goodbye had been awkward? This was even more so. He towered over her, all skulking manpire with the overhanging forehead and Cordelia realised that she had no idea what the hell to say to the guy. "Uhm, how've you been?" She asked and groaned inwardly. Lame small talk was his thing, not hers!

"Good," he nodded quickly, "I've been—Good." Awkward pause. "I—Uhm, you?"

What she wanted to say was that in the space of one year her life had gone to shit. What she wanted to say was that her father was a big, dumb, jackass who'd not paid his taxes in the last _ever_ and now she was living in Sunnydale Motel because she was an adult in her own right and she needed to finish out school and figure out what she was going to do with her life.

What she said was "Oh, I'm great," with not a hint of sarcasm. Maybe acting really was going to be her forte once she figured out how to get the hell out of Sunnydale. "Totally a-ok."

It was a total lie and for a whole moment, Cordelia thought he'd bought it.

"You look tired," he observed, his head tilting just-so.

Cordelia swallowed, hard. The last thing she needed was for Creature-of-The-Night-Guy to grow a brain-cell and clue himself into his feelings and shit. She did not need sympathy, not from him.

"Hello, SAT's," she rolled her eyes, "You try booking it 24/7 in order to get into a decent college and see how awake you look."

He smiled, "You're going to college?"

She gave him her 'duh' look, completely aware of how easily the lies were tripping off her tongue lately, "What? You think I'm gonna stay in Sunnydale? There's nothing here for me."

And that last part? Didn't come out half as snippy as she'd like. She realised that were true only a moment after she said it and she launched into her next sentence which, unfortunately, was not a lie. "I got into every college I applied for." She ticked them off on her fingers as she said them, painfully aware that the acceptance letters were burning a hole through her purse, "USC, Colorado State, Duke and Columbia."

Sure, she'd got in. She was lying about the booking it part – she happened to do well on standardized tests, thank you very much – the tired came from the worry that her father was about to become somebody's bitch in prison and her mother was going into total meltdown while staying with a relative.

"You, uh, you picked one yet?" He asked, watching her closely.

"The one that's furthest away from this place," she murmured. She hadn't honestly thought where she would go after she'd graduated but Angel didn't need to know that; he didn't need to know that the college letters were mostly useless either because she wasn't going. Ever.

They both fell silent until Cordelia decided that this was far too awkward for her to endure in her fragile state and made her excuses to leave. She was almost down the street when he called her name. "Cordy?"

She turned back, arching one eyebrow at the familiar nickname, only to find herself nose-to-chest with big lurking manpire himself. She was too jazzed to be really pissed at his scare the crap out of her routine. "What?"

"I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly, so quiet she almost missed it.

"Me too," she nodded, and turned to walk away.

* * *

She was lying. Angel had known it from the moment she'd said she was booking it and yet—He didn't have the heart to call her out on it, not then. She looked so tired and worn, her emotions running dangerously close to the edge and Angel was struck by the fact that he wanted to… Protect her? To know whatever it was that was bothering her so that he could help?

He watched her walk down the street, didn't puzzle over the fact that she didn't have her car until she was out of sight and then he decided to follow her.

He didn't have far to walk.

He remembered the way to Cordelia's house from the last time he'd been there, getting her clothes. He walked quickly, vampire speed very much a plus in this situation… And didn't catch up with her at all.

He got to the gate that led to her house, glancing up to find that there wasn't even a light on which was about the time he noticed the big foreclosure sign on her front porch. Angel's mouth dropped open in surprise.

He vaulted the gate easily, sure that there was something vastly wrong with this scenario, and went to the same balcony window he'd gotten in the last time she'd invited him in.

Her room was empty. Gone was the four poster bed, the lavishly decorated units. A quick check through the other windows showed Angel everything he needed to know; Cordelia's house was empty.

* * *

He didn't catch up with her for another two days. He'd made subtle enquiries with Buffy when he'd seen her on patrol but Buffy was pretty much oblivious to her classmate's fate, concerned more with the fact that Prom was coming up and she was going 'stag'.

He didn't tell her about Cordelia's house or what he saw, managed to dodge the subtle anvils that Buffy was dropping about not going stag tomorrow night and kept an eye out for Cordelia as much as he could.

He'd been getting blood from his local butcher when he saw her in the very last place he expected, dressed down in sweats, her hair pulled back off her face as she exited the local K-Mart.

Her mouth made an almost-comical 'o' when she saw him, clutching her grocery bag like armour as she tried to formulate an excuse for why she was in this part of town doing grown up things like grocery shopping the night before her Prom.

"Angel, hey…" She was ten shades of too tired for this crap.

Today had been the shitty kind of day at work – who else could say that they'd turned up for five hours of slave labour after school, only to find Xander ready, willing and able to reign down death-blows that they'd barely been able to deflect.

His parting shot had been something about the colleges she'd been accepted at seeing a different side of her father's money and Cordelia almost lost it then and there.

"What are you doing here?"

He held up his bag of blood and gave her an awkward smile. "Cordelia—"

"Look, can we not?" Somehow, the lies weren't coming to her at all tonight because she couldn't think of one tiny little reason why she'd be shopping in this part of town.

"I know." He said softly.

Her gaze narrowed, though her heartbeat sped up a little, "You know what?"

"Your house. I went by there the other night and saw the foreclosure sign…"

Cordelia's face drained of colour. Now that Angel knew it would only be a matter of time before everybody else knew and—This was so much more humiliating than Xander cheating on her with Willow.

"Have you told anybody?" She managed to ask quietly, not even looking up to meet his gaze because pity was the last thing she wanted to see on his face right now.

"It wasn't my place," he told her gently and Cordelia was taken back to the first time he'd ever said those words to her, the bitch-fit that'd followed and the barb about him trying to pass for human 95% of the time and actually acting like one.

She let out the breath she'd been holding, unaware that she'd even stopped and then she glanced up. The look on his face wasn't one of pity – if he felt sorry for her, he didn't show it. His jaw was clenched, his face schooled into that Angel-look of impassive, but his eyes were friendly, God, worried even. And that right there was her undoing because for the first time since this whole losing-everything crap had beat down her door? Cordelia started to cry.

* * *

"What happened?"

They were back at her motel room and Angel had since learned how dank the place was as he'd watched Cordelia unload her groceries and place them in her crappy, makeshift fridge.

"My father didn't pay his taxes for twelve years," she murmured, sitting opposite him on one of the chairs, "That's what happened."

She couldn't sugar-coat it any more than that. Once again, Angel had been privy to one of the darkest fucking times of her life and Cordelia was—Actually, she was kinda grateful. He hadn't made a big deal out of it (although it wasn't like she suspected he got off on hot gossip or whatever) he'd just let her cry, given her a semi-awkward hug and walked her back to her motel room.

"What about—"

"My Mom?" She cut off his awkward pause, "Staying with a cousin I've met, like, twice. I wanted to stay and finish up school and since I'm an adult…" Cordelia raised an arm, gestured around her, "Welcome home Cordelia."

"You call this home?" Asked Angel, unable to stop himself.

She didn't even answer that like he'd thought; gone was the blaze of anger in her eyes as she contemplated just how crappy her life was these days. Cordelia merely shrugged, "It's not like I get a lot of choice in the matter. We lost everything," she said quietly, "No car, no house, none of those fancy-pants colleges I gloated over when I saw you outside the Espresso Pump. Everything I have is right here in this crappy motel room and all I keep thinking is that maybe I finally got mine as if I didn't have a shitty enough start to the year."

Angel's head tilted, "Got yours?"

And God, she really hadn't been around him in a while because she'd forgotten how exceptionally clueless he could be. "Oh, come on. You know as well as I do that as soon as this comes out? That's what everyone's gonna be saying. How Cordy finally got her comeuppance 'cause, hey, bitch."

Angel frowned. He knew people could be cruel but that? Was on a whole other level of cruel that he didn't want to contemplate. "Have you tried talking to anyone?" He asked carefully.

"Like who?" She could just imagine Buffy's reaction to all of this – she'd laugh just like the rest of them and she wasn't even gonna get started on Xander. "It's not like it'd make a difference. I only have to survive school and the Hellmouth for another couple of weeks and then I'm gone."

"Gone?" Angel blinked, a little surprised, "Gone where?"

She shrugged, trying to perfect the carefree look she'd given weeks ago when she'd left Angel's mansion but she didn't quite pull it off. "Anywhere but here? I have no idea, Angel. I'm working at a dress shop to fund my little trip and then it's adios Cordelia."

Angel thought about that for a moment, thought about what Buffy had been concerned with earlier in the week and glanced at her. "You're not going to Prom?"

She bristled. She'd been thinking about Prom non-stop for a week – seemed kinda trivial what with all her current problems but she was still a girl and her after all. "I need all the money I can get for when I leave. I put a dress on layaway at April Fool's but even with my staff discount it's… I can't even attempt justifying spending that on a dress," she shook her head. Prom was definitely a no-go area for her. "Once I graduate I'm out, providing evil Mayor Guy doesn't, like, make a meal out of me at his ascension or whatever."

Angel met her gaze. "You could have come to me, y'know…"

She made a face at that, "Why? So you could play the big white knight and rescue me from the evil motel room? I'm fine." One of the bigger cockroaches chose just that moment to dart from underneath her bed and Cordelia shrieked, drawing her legs quickly up to her chest.

She heard the crunch of the thing underneath Angel's boot and made herself not look as he flushed the offending little critter in her bathroom. "Okay, so maybe fine is stretching it a little…"

"Come stay with me."

Cordelia blinked. He didn't sound awkward or stammery – he actually sounded like he'd thought about it and come to the conclusion that this was one of his better plans. "What?" She choked out on a laugh.

"You said yourself it's only for a couple of weeks. This place is awful."

She couldn't disagree there but she also couldn't – and wouldn't - move in with him no matter how short the timeframe. Cordelia shook her head, weary all of a sudden. "Angel, I really am fine. It just looks worse than it is, that's all…"

One of her less friendly neighbours chose that moment to scream at his girlfriend and Cordelia bristled. He heard much more of this and he'd be tempted to go all macho-manpire and cart her out of here on his shoulder.

Angel frowned, "It doesn't get much worse than this. Come stay with me."

She boggled at his repeated offer, probably would've cried if she hadn't bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself. "Y'know, for a guy who avoids people as much as you? You sure know how to treat a girl decent when she's down."

He frowned, knowing a rebuff when he saw one.

"I am so, so grateful," she continued, being completely honest with somebody for maybe the first time in her entire life, "For everything you did for me, not just tonight. But I can't stay with you, Angel. I'm leaving in three weeks."

And if she stayed with him? She'd get comfortable and probably never want to leave which would be really fun explaining to his very disgruntled ex.

Angel thought about that for a moment, sighed. He'd been serious about the offer but he couldn't force her. "Cordelia, if you need anything…"

"You'll be the first to know," she promised, giving him her thousand watt smile as she walked him to her door.

She closed it after him and for the first time in two days – since that God-awful moment where Mr. IRS had come into her home and snatched everything? Cordelia didn't feel like her life was completely spiralling apart.

* * *

Of course, that all changed the very next day.

She was just starting to think that maybe life was cutting her a break when a Hellhound happened at the place she worked and, wouldn't you know it? Xander was in the very midst of it, being all noble after the insults and totally pushing her out of harms way.

Through sheer calm she managed to get Mrs. Finkel to hand the surveillance footage over and gave it to Xander to give to Buffy once most of the panic and hysteria had died down.

Her secret was out now, she was sure – no going back, 'cause Xander would've told them all about it and—Honestly? She couldn't bring herself to care. She stood, putting some of the dresses back when one of the salesgirls popped her head around the door. "You're still here?"

Cordelia gave a shrug. The overtime wasn't gonna kill her. "I figured I'd help clean up a little."

Lisa frowned, "You aren't going home to get dressed? Your Prom's tonight, right? I overheard that guy…"

That guy being Xander, thought Cordelia, frowning slightly. "Yeah. Right. I'm not going."

"You're not—Why?"

Cordelia tried for nonchalance, failed miserably and turned to hang up another dress. "As much as I hate to admit this? I didn't finish paying for my dress."

Lisa looked puzzled, "Some guy came in this morning and cleared off the balance."

Cordelia spun, "What? Who?"

"Tall guy. Kinda hot… A little older. He just said to tell you it was from a friend," Lisa shrugged, and reached up to get Cordelia's dress, completely missing the look on her face. "That other guy tried to pay it off too… Y'know, the sweet-in-a-dorky-way guy who pushed you out the way of that dog?"

Cordelia blinked, "Xander?"

"Yeah, that was his name. I told him someone had paid off your dress so he bought you this," she rummaged around under the counter for a second and handed Cordelia a silver pin for her hair, one she'd been looking at earlier when she and Xander had been trading barbs.

It was small, pretty expensive, beautiful and it made Cordelia want to cry.

Lisa grinned, "So, I'm guessing Cordelia is going to the ball?"

* * *

It was the kind of night that she was never likely to forget in a hurry.

Buffy kept up her end of the chaperoning deal by making sure that no Hellhounds got into Prom; Cordelia even shared a dance with Xander (who'd agreed to come with Anya, by the way – the Vengeance Demon at the heart of that *airquote* dream) and thanked him with a gentle kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand as the music changed to a more up-tempo beat.

It was pretty much the perfect goodbye to Sunnydale and even Cordelia clapped when Buffy got her Class Protector award – like her or not, it was deserved.

It wound down around midnight and Cordelia stood watching her friends – both former and sort-of current and realised for the first time that as much as she hated Sunnydale and 95% of what had happened in the last year? She was actually going to miss these people.

She was the last to get dropped off in the limo she'd hijacked with Buffy, Willow and Xander so she asked the guy to drive her over to Angel's mansion once Prom was done, riding on the tux-tails of that particular wave of melancholy. She figured he should see what he'd paid for, after all, and she really did want to thank him before the Mayor got all ascend-y and she lost her chance.

She found him sitting in front of the TV and smiled to herself as he got up to greet her.

"Cordelia," he looked surprised but pleasantly so, "You look—"

"Amazing," she grinned and twirled, giving him the full show, "I know. Thanks to you."

He ducked his head, still totally not used to anything resembling a compliment and Cordelia realised that after all the inevitable things she was going to miss about this place – her parents, her home, this town minus the sucking stomach wound and the near death experiences - there was something else she was really gonna miss too and it brought a lump to her throat.

"That's why I came."

Angel's head lifted, "You don't have to thank me, Cordelia."

"Actually, I kinda do… And I'm not very good at it," she grinned, though there was a grain of truth in there somewhere.

If Angel had the Awkward Dead Guy shuffle down pat then she herself had the I'm Not Very Good At Accepting Help one down too. Because she wasn't. Hell, she'd even thought there was something sinister in Angel trying to help her and looking back? He'd done nothing but help in his own awkward and semi-kind-of-sweet way.

"I've pretty much lost everything these past few months," said Cordelia, choosing her words carefully, "Daddy's awaiting trial for only the huge kind of tax fraud, my Mom is currently self-medicating up the wazoo to get through her pain and I'm leaving Sunnydale with what qualifies as a few photos, a potential Graduation certificate providing I survive next week and the clothes on my back, beautiful dress not withstanding." She took a breath, and smiled at him, "You know what really surprises me about all of this?"

Angel shook his head.

"I'm okay," said Cordelia, "Like, _really_ okay. And I think maybe you have something to do with that."

He thought that maybe she was giving him far too much credit, opened his mouth to tell her so and was cut off again.

"The best I thought I was gonna get out of that dinner party was a free meal, maybe some awkward conversation when I realized Willow was going stag. I didn't expect to get a friend out of it," she said softly, "And that is me saying thank you… For everything. I really think I'm gonna miss you."

Angel smiled and it was neither awkward nor serial-killer-ish. It was kinda sad, actually. "I think I'm going to miss you too, Cordelia."

"Duh," she grinned, and stepped forward to hug him. "How could you not?"

He held on for just a fraction of a second longer than was really necessary. He really was going to miss her – sarcasm, tactlessness and all. "You know where you're headed?" He asked, after his arms had dropped and she'd stepped away.

"Not a clue." She didn't. She had enough saved up for a Greyhound ticket out of here and after that? It was just her and the open road, she guessed. She meant what she'd said though… She really was gonna miss him. "I'd offer to call but I've just dragged you kicking and screaming into the 90's with that thing," she pointed at the TV, grinning, "I think a cellphone would be pushing it."

Angel laughed. "I think you're right."

And just like that, Cordelia realized that Graduation and big Mayor-Ascension gig aside? This was probably the last time she'd ever see him. "You're a good guy, Angel. I mean, aside from the whole going evil once in a while and biting people? You really are."

"I'll try to remember that," he smiled.

Cordelia nodded, was yanked out of her whole goodbye with Angel when the limo driver blasted his horn once. "Crap. That's me," she frowned, "He is _so_ not getting a tip."

Angel chuckled despite the heavy feeling in his heart, "Cordelia, if you need anything, before you leave, I mean, or…"

Cordelia smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek, "You'll be the first to know, Broody, I promise."

~ FIN ~


End file.
